lewis hamilton x fem!reader — cockwarming (mdni)
warnings : cockwarming (duh), teasing, praise kink, pet names, p in v, not proofread, use of y/n
word count : 1.7k, masterlist, a/n : first smut fic BAI I HATE DIS..
earlier, his mouth was on your neck. earlier, his hand was between your thighs.
the movie had been playing for maybe ten minutes before he turned the sound off. didn't ask. just muted it and looked at you.
you straddled him. his hands found your waist, your ribs, the hem of your shirt. his mouth dragged along your jaw. lazy, unhurried, like he had nowhere in the world to be but here.
when his fingers slipped under the waistband of your shorts, you exhaled.
not even a question. a confirmation. you nodded.
he pushed your shorts down. didn't take them off but just enough room to work. his fingers found you wet. slick already.
"fuck," he breathed. "how long?"
"been sitting here wet for me." not a question. his middle finger dragged through your folds, slow. "and you didn't say anything."
"you were watching the movie."
he laughed. quiet, a single exhale. his lips brushed your ear. "i wasn't watching the movie."
his finger circled your clit. once. twice. your hips jerked.
"ah." his other hand clamped your hip. "don't move."
he pulled his hand out. brought his fingers to his mouth. licked them clean while holding your gaze.
"you want me inside you."
he nodded slow. reached down. unbuttoned his jeans. his cock sprang free. hard, thick, already leaking at the tip.
"you can have it," he said. "on one condition."
"you sit on my cock." his hand found your clit again. one wet finger, tracing maddening circles. "and you stay still. keep me warm. that's it."
his finger pressed down. your whole body thrummed.
"no fucking," he said. "no grinding. no chasing it."
"just this," he murmured. "just me inside you. still."
his finger left your clit. you almost whined. almost.
you looked at him. his braids pulled back, the dark ink curling up his neck from his collarbone, the way his chest rose and fell like he was the calm one here. he wasn't.
something flickered behind his eyes.
he lined himself up. let you sink down on your own time. inch by inch. the stretch burning sweet, until your hips met his.
you both stopped breathing.
"there," he whispered. "right there."
his hands settled on your hips.
that was twenty minutes ago.
his hotel suite at 1 a.m. the tv's on but the sound's off. the dim light flicked across the bed, across his bare chest, across the dark ink of the tattoos sleeving his arms, his shoulders, the compass on his chest.
you're in his lap. have been for twenty minutes.
his cock is inside you. thick, warm, still. hasn't moved since you sank down onto him. that was the deal.
lewis’s head rests against the back of the bed. eyes half lidded in that way that makes it impossible to tell if he's about to fall asleep or about to ruin you.
his hands sit loose on your hips. not guiding. not pressing. just there.
"feel good?" his voice is low. gravelly. the first words in ten minutes.
the word lands low in your stomach. his thumb traces a slow circle on your hip bone. no urgency. he's got nowhere to be until the next grand prix, and that's a week away.
you try to shift. just a little, just to feel the friction. and his hands tighten.
"nah." soft. almost kind. "stay still, love."
his accent curls around the word. you've heard him use it in interviews, in press conferences, but never like this. private, just for you, spoken into the inch of air between your mouths.
your cunt clenches around him involuntarily. he exhales through his nose. the closest thing to a reaction lew will give up for free.
"that's it," he murmurs. "just that."
the tv flickers. some movie neither of you are watching.
his thumb keeps moving. that slow, absent circle. his cock doesn't. you can feel every inch of him. the heat. the pulse. the way he fills you completely without doing anything at all.
not harsh. just final. the kind of no that makes your stomach drop and your clit throb at the same time. he tilts his head forward. looks at you properly.
"you said you wanted to keep me warm." his voice is almost conversational. "so keep me warm."
"i like you like this," he says. "right here. full of me. not going anywhere."
his thumb stops circling. presses down.
"can you do that for me, sweetheart? just sit here. just this."
his eyes on you. dark. patient. expecting an answer.
"yeah," you breathe. "i can do that."
he doesn't move. doesn't thrust up into you, doesn't reward you with friction. just those two words, low and warm, and the way his hands relax again on your hips.
the movie keeps playing. some action thing, cars and explosions in total silence. lewis glances at it briefly. then back at you.
"you're clenching again."
"good." he says it like a secret. "don't stop."
the minutes stretch. your thighs start to ache from holding position. every tiny adjustment makes you aware of him inside you. the full length, the slight curve, the way your body keeps trying to pull him deeper even though there's nowhere deeper to go.
he notices everything. the shift of your weight. the catch in your breath. the way your nipples have tightened against his chest.
"you're doing so well," he says.
his voice has gone softer. there's something in it now that wasn't there before. something unguarded, something that sounds like gratitude.
he lifts one hand. tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. the gesture is so gentle it hurts.
"nobody's ever done this for me before."
his thumb traces the shell of your ear, down to your jaw.
"you're always moving," you say. "racing.. flying.. doing interviews..”
"mm." his eyes search your face. "not right now."
his hand cups your jaw. his cock twitches inside you. the first movement, involuntary, and you both feel it. his jaw tightens.
"i'm—" he almost laughs. almost. a ghost of it at the corner of his mouth. "you feel really fucking good."
"then do something about it."
his thumb presses against your bottom lip. "when i'm ready."
that's when you realize. this isn't about denial for him. it's about control. about holding something still in a life that never stops. about you, warm and patient, wanting him and waiting anyway.
you understand him better in this moment than you ever have.
"take your time," you say.
something flickers behind his eyes. he pulls you closer. not to fuck you, just to hold you. your chest against his. his face in the crook of your neck.
"thank you," he murmurs into your skin.
his cock stays buried inside you. still. warm. yours. and you stay.
his breathing changes first. slower. deeper. his face still buried in your neck, but something's shifted. his hands on your back, fingers splayed, pressing you closer.
then his hips move. barely. a half inch. the smallest roll.
your gasp is sharp in the quiet room.
"there it is," he murmurs against your throat. "that sound."
he does it again. another small roll. another. finding a rhythm that's barely a rhythm. slow, deliberate, like he's relearning your body from the inside.
"i know, love." his lips drag up the column of your neck. "i've got you."
his hands slide down to your ass. he grips. lifts you. just an inch, and pulls you back down onto his cock.
your moan cracks the silence.
"thaaat's it." his voice has changed. gone is the patient, measured control. something hungrier underneath now. "let me hear you."
he thrusts up into you. slow. deep. every inch deliberate.
"you've been so good for me." thrust. "so patient." thrust. "been sat here feeling you clench around me for half an hour."
his forehead presses to yours.
his thumb finds your clit. the contact is electric. you've been aching, untouched, for so long that the first circle makes your thighs shake.
you do. his eyes are dark. focused. the way he looks at a corner he's about to take at two hundred miles an hour. total clarity, no hesitation.
"i want to feel you come on my cock."
his thumb works your clit in firm, steady circles. his hips keep that same slow rhythm. deep, unhurried, filling you completely every time.
"can you do that, sweetheart?"
his pace doesn't quicken. that's the thing that destroys you. he doesn't rush. doesn't chase. just keeps fucking you slow and deep, his thumb circling your clit with the same maddening patience he used to tease you earlier.
the buildup is unbearable. heat coiling low in your stomach. your thighs trembling. your cunt fluttering around him with every thrust.
"feel that?" his voice is rough now. straining. "feel how tight you're getting?"
you can't answer. can barely breathe.
his thumb presses down harder.
it breaks over you. waves of heat. your body clenching around him, pulsing, and he groans. a real sound, unguarded, torn from somewhere deep in his chest.
"that's it. fuuuuck. that's—"
he doesn't finish the sentence. his hips stutter. his rhythm finally unraveling as he spills inside you, hot and thick, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.
he breathes against your skin. his hands still gripping your ass like he's afraid you'll disappear. the tv flickers. the bed creaks. outside, a siren passes somewhere far away.
he lifts his head. looks at you.
"i was gonna wait longer."
"was that supposed to be punishment?"
a smile. a real one. "for you or me?"
you laugh. he kisses you. slow, soft, nothing like the way he just fucked you.
his cock is still inside you. softening. neither of you moves.
"next time," he says, "i'll make you wait an hour."
"good." he kisses your forehead. "now stay. just a little longer."
