deja vu - ln1
summary: you and lando had a one night stand and kept a secret. now you're introduced by a mutual friend and have to deal with the tension. +18. mndi.
word count: 3.1k author's notes: alexa play sticky feat. glorilla. i wrote this a few weeks ago and i had a revelation that i'm a whore for any type of secret relationship. so this worked out perfectly with 1. dean and allie (ughhhghghhg) 2. the other post i've scheduled for next week hehehehe (basically same concept of this one but w/ jimin!!!!) masterlist
Three months ago.
Three months since I photographed an F1 driver for my work.
Three months since he somehow talked me into giving him my number while shamelessly flirting between shots.
I remember thinking he probably does that all the time, and yet somehow I still ended up at his apartment.
His bed.
His kitchen counter.
His shower.
That night lived rent-free in my head for days afterward, but we never really talked about it. I decided it was a mistake. Not exactly professional behavior on my part.
So I ask him to stay between us.
Which brings us to now…
∙ ∙ ∙
It was a beautiful day in Monaco. The summer heat had mellowed into something almost perfect — the kind of weather that makes it very easy to say yes to a villa weekend, even when you'd be the third wheel to Oscar and Lily. The view alone made it worth it. That, and the idea of being somewhere that wasn't my office.
I arrived later than everyone else, as usual. Before I even stepped fully inside, I could already hear Alex and Carlos arguing over a game, music floating somewhere in the background, and a few voices I didn’t recognize.
Lily appeared and grabbed my arm like she'd been waiting at the door.
"Finally," she said, pulling me into a hug.
“Hey, I’m happy to be here,” I say, hugging her tight
"I’m so glad you’re here! let’s go, there are people you haven't met yet."
She steered me toward the patio, doing the quick round of introductions.
“Guys, this is my friend Y/n, she’s the amazing photographer I told you.” I smiled and waved; everyone was mid-conversation and relaxed about it, which I appreciated.
And then, at the end of the table, a familiar face looked up.
That slow, stupid grin, the backwards cap, the exact same eyes that flash into my memory often.
My stomach dropped.
I mean, I did this to myself. Out of every guy in Monaco, I had to hook up with the one in my friend’s inner circle.
I fixed my face as fast as I could and nodded to him with my lips shut tight.
Lily seated me near him. Of course she did.
The table was loud and full and easy — Charles was mid-story about a press interaction, everyone leaning in, which meant I had exactly zero excuses not to look natural. I poured myself a drink, laughed at the right moments, and avoided the left side of my peripheral vision with the focus of someone defusing something.
He was quiet about it, at least.
Just that slow energy that pulls my attention like a magnet. Every now and then, I looked up, and he was already watching me, with this expression like he was very entertained.
I looked away every time. Quickly. The truth is, I don’t know how to act around him.
Later, I drifted toward the bar to mix drinks for the girls. It was a good excuse. Pretending to be busy to avoid giving myself up.
I was halfway through when I felt him appear at the corner of my eye, leaning on the counter with his elbows, completely unbothered.
"Do you take orders?" he asked.
"Sure," I said, keeping my eyes on the glass. "What do you want?"
He glanced around, just briefly, and lowered his voice just enough. "I think you know what I like."
I stilled for half a second. Torturing me seemed to be his way to entertain himself.
Lily and Alexandra chose that exact moment to arrive, Lily still laughing at something from the other side of the patio. I straightened up and handed over the drink I'd been making, grateful for the interruption.
"Wait, Lando, did you meet Y/N? She’s an incredible photographer," Lily asked, leaning her hip against the counter and looking between us. "I realized I didn't properly introduce you."
Lando tilted his head, his gaze dragging across my face like a physical touch. He took a slow sip of whatever was in his glass, his eyes never leaving mine. "I was just wondering about that myself," he murmured. "You look incredibly familiar. Have we met before?"
I focused very hard on slicing a lime, my fingers trembling slightly against the blade. "I don’t think so," I said, keeping my tone flat, professional.
"Maybe you saw her in that shoot you were talking about it" Alexandra suggested, blissfully unaware as she stirred her drink with a straw.
"Maybe," Lando said, though he didn't look at Alexandra. I felt his eyes burning on me.
…
The evening softened, people split into smaller groups, music got quieter, I stopped attempting to win games, and the drinks started to kick in. Lando’s presence becomes more comfortable. By the time the house was mostly settled, I was alone on the patio, watching a boat move slowly in the dark water below.
I heard him before I saw him.
"Doesn't seem like either of us is calling it a night," he said, his hands were holding a glass almost empty, his shirt was a bit more wrinkled, and his hair was now without his cap and a bit messier.
"Apparently not."
He stood beside me for a moment, looking out in the same direction I was. "Do you want to go for a swim?"
"I don't think we should."
"Why?"
"It's almost two in the morning."
"And?" He tilted his head. "Didn't we just agree we’re not the early bird type?"
I rubbed the back of my neck. The water in the pool looked peaceful and inviting. Swimming actually sounded nice. "I don’t have my swimsuit on, and I’m afraid that if I go to my bedroom, I would actually stay there, so...."
He looked at me, narrowing his eyes, like that might be the least convincing argument he’s ever heard.
"There’s nothing I hav-you're making it very hard not to say something dirty to you."
"Then don't."
"Ok. But we’re swimming then."
The pool faced the city and the docks, the lights of Monaco stacked up the hillside in the distance. Lando left his watch and glass on a side table and started taking off his shirt in a way that shouldn’t register as important but absolutely did. I looked away. I'm mostly sure he noticed.
I slipped off my jeans and top, grateful in a very specific way for my choice of underwear, and dove in before I could overthink it.
When I surfaced, he was still on the steps, inching in like the cold water was a personal attack.
“Oh my god, you’re the one to convince me to swim and not even going for a proper dive?” I teased
"I didn't think it through."
I laughed as he finally sank in with a sharp exhale.
…
“What got you into photography?” he asks.
“My dad used to take photos all the time, he had a collection of old film cameras and stuff, and then I started stealing them when I was like thirteen.”
“Stealing?”
“Borrowing without permission.”
He grins. “Oof, rebel.”
“I know, very dangerous.”
He watches me for a second, like he’s trying to picture it.
“You travel a lot for it?”
“Sometimes. Depends on the job.” I shrug. “It’s been mostly Europe lately.”
“Mostly Monaco?”
“For the last four months, yes, exclusive Monaco.”
“Right”
I glance at him, and it’s like for a second he forgot that we met here.
“And you? Do you like it here?”
He leans back at the edge of the pool, resting his head on the border
“I do,” he says. “I like the weather and the fact that most of my friends live here.”
“That’s a safe answer.”
“It’s the true one,” he says
I shake my head, smiling. It got easier in the water. Easier to talk. Easier to forget, for a few minutes, that I was way too embarrassed to be around him. Now it feels natural; it’s nice to actually get to know him.
“So,” he says, and by his tone, I've got an idea of the subject he will bring, "I'm sorry I didn't text you. After."
I glanced at him. He was looking straight ahead, leaning at the pool's edge.
"I didn't know if you wanted to hear from me," he continued. "And then I kept putting it off until it was too late to do it."
I was quiet for a second. Honesty felt the way to go at two in the morning, in cold water, with no one watching.
"I didn't reach out either," I admitted. "What happened was... out of character for me. I got embarrassed. I didn't want to make it awkward."
He frowned. "How come?"
“I mean, it was a one-time thing; I did think you would have thought about it.”
He shakes his head, looking straight. “You’ve got a very optimistic opinion of yourself if you think that night was forgettable.”
His statement caught me off guard. The reminder of our last night together sent a jolt of heat through me.
When he finally looks back at me, there’s no smirk on his face this time. Just something steady.
“Oh,” I say quietly, processing his words. “I just figured…” I start, shrugging a little. “You know. You meet a lot of people. I didn’t exactly assume I’d be… memorable.”
He lets out a soft scoff. “So your solution was to pretend it never happened.”
“More like… hope it politely disappeared.”
He studies me for a second.
“Nah,” he says slowly. “That wasn’t going to happen.”
I bit my lips as I smiled. “Apparently not.”
There’s a brief, comfortable pause before I add.
“Also… if we’re confessing things.”
He tilts his head slightly. “Go on.”
I swirl my hand through the water.
“It wasn’t exactly easy to forget on my side either.”
His expression shifts, he sucks his teeth and raises his brows, “Oh yeah?”
I side-eye him. “You’re acting surprised.”
“I’m acting curious.” The beginning of a smirk settled on his lips. “That’s amazing for my ego,”
“Oh my…shut up,” I push his shoulder lightly as we chuckle
“Can I ask you a question?” he asks as his smile fades a bit
“Go for it.”
“Do you regret it?
I scrunch my nose as I respond, “Not really.”
I surprised myself a little. I'd spent so long convincing myself it was nothing — that I was nothing to him, that he was nothing to me — and somewhere along the way I think I started believing it. It was easier.
But then he looks at me like that, says something like that, and the whole story I've been telling myself just... seems nonsense.
“Good, because if it weren’t for the miscommunication, I would do it all over again,” he casually states
I bite my lips as I confess, “I wouldn’t be opposed to that either.”
“Not opposed?”
“I’m trying to sound dignified.”
“You’re doing great.”
I nudge the water toward him with my hand.
“Don’t ruin it.”
He studies me for a second, clearly amused. Then he shrugs lightly.
“Well,” he says, very casually, “good news.”
I narrowed my eyes, waiting for him to say it.
He pushes himself off the edge of the pool, standing in the shallow water.
“I’m free tonight.”
“…you’re unbelievable.”
“And apparently unforgettable,” he winks, sitting at the edge, dripping wet.
I laughed despite myself and looked away.
I floated on my back, arms out, looking up at the sky, enjoying the hum of the water around my ears. I let myself drift for a moment before I righted myself, looking in Lando’s direction, I see his eyes locked on me. Not at my face. At my body.
I shake my head, pushing wet hair out of my eyes as I swim closer to the steps. Climbing out, the night air hits my skin, shivering a little, I look around for something, anything, that could pass as a towel; my clothes aren’t near enough to dry my whole body.
Behind me, I hear Lando getting up as well. There are still droplets of water running down his shoulders. He stands up and shakes his head like a dog.
“Elegant,” I say, wiping my face with my shirt.
“Says the one drying herself in a tiny piece of fabric?” He reaches down to where he dropped his clothes earlier and grabs his shirt from the table, tossing it towards me.
I catch it and pull it over my head. The fabric is soft and way too big, falling to the middle of my tights; it smells like him, and I hate myself for noticing.
“Let’s go inside, you’re cold,” he tilted his head toward the house and extended one hand. I looked at it for a second longer than I needed to. Then I took it.
Inside, we moved quickly and quietly to avoid making the floor even wetter, both of us on the edge of laughing about it without actually laughing. The house was dark and still and felt like a completely different place than it had a few hours ago — smaller somehow, just the two of us moving through it.
We slowed down when we got to the hallway. I stopped outside my door and turned around, and that's when I noticed that he was still holding my hand. Not like he was guiding me, his fingers were around mine tightly, like he had no intention of letting go.
I looked down at it for a second. So did he.
When I looked back up, he was already watching me, close enough that I was aware of every inch between us. The moment just sat there, my heart felt heavy, our eyes were saying something neither of us had said out loud yet. I want you.
His expression was giving me the chance to make the call.
So I did.
I stepped forward and reached up, pulling him down to me. His hands came to my face immediately, steady and certain. The kiss was warm and a little breathless and nothing like the careful distance I was trying to maintain all evening — it was the other version of us, the one that had existed three months ago.
He smiled against my mouth. I felt it before I saw it.
"Took you long enough," he murmured.
"Shut up," I said, pulling his lips into mine as we entered the bedroom.
We stumble inside; the kiss is messier, I part my lips just enough, and his tongue slides in. I taste the alcohol from earlier, warm and fresh. Our bodies are still wet and cold, but inside I can feel the heat growing. His hands land at my waist like it’s a familiar gesture. Lando shuts and locks the door, still holding me tight.
My fingers brush through the damp curls at the back of his head. We’re breathing so hard I can't tell where his breath ends and mine begins. I thought I had a good reason not to do this. Standing here, I can't remember what it was.
“I missed your kiss,” he says against my mouth, his hands slide to my ass, giving a firm squeeze.
His hands move fast, yanking his shirt over my head, sliding down to my stomach, past my navel, his fingers hook into the waistband of my underwear. I lift my hips just enough for him to pull, as the damp fabric slides down my thighs, I unclasp my bra, letting it fall somewhere on the floor.
I grab the front of his shorts—the wet fabric clinging to his hips—and start pulling. He helps, shoving them down his thighs, then kicking them off one foot. Guiding his body to the bed, I push him into it. He takes his boxers off, and his back hits the mattress. I climbed on top of him.
We lined up perfectly, him hard in my entrance, his eyes tracking the progress of my hands touching him and aligning his cock, enough for me to sink on him.
“Of fuck.” A breath sound comes out of Lando’s throat. “Just like that.”
I push down on my knees, straddling my hips deeper. It feels so good that it stuns me. Stretching me, his dick hits the perfect spot inside me, the friction, the sense of fullness, makes my eyes roll back in my head.
“Mhm, yes, Lando…” I whine
I press my palm against his chest for support. One of his hands squeezes my waist as the other holds my breast. I fasten the pace, rocking on his cock, the angle is so deep, my breath hitches, and a desperate, obscene sound escapes my lips.
“Shhh, baby,” Lando hisses.
I bite my lip trying to control myself, but my body reacts involuntarily. My thighs burn, but I keep squeezing him tighter.
Just like he became aware of thoughts, Lando moves swiftly, lifting me off and him.
My knees sink into the mattress, and I arch my back enough so my legs are spread open and my ass is high.
“That’s it, show me how much you want it,” he says into my neck. He adjusts himself behind me and buries himself back inside of me with one thrust. Immediately, my legs tremble. Lando grips my waist, keeping me still and angling his pounds.
I sob and whimper into the back of my hands, powerless. The sound of our bodies frantically slapping against each other takes over my senses. I’m drunk on him, he’s panting my name under his breath, and reaching for between my legs. His finger slips to my swollen clit and rubs me faster.
Then everything inside me clenches, feeling every thick inch of him. When that pressure builds intensely, I can’t hold on anymore. I shatter. Bursting like a dam, my skin is hot, eyelids feel heavy, and Lando’s keeping pounding roughly.
“I’m gonna come.” His words are choppy, my pulse in my neck is hammering when he growls my name, and his cock twitches inside of me.
I’m in a state of haze, still riding the wave of my orgasm. I feel a warm liquid drip out of my pussy as Lando pulls out.
We fall our sweaty bodies into bed, and I give a small laugh. He does too, and for a minute that's all there is — just both of us catching our breath in the dark.
"I'm having a bit of deja vu," he says.
"What—"
"I mean, partial deja vu. For the full experience, we'd need a kitchen, a love seat…"
"Oh, my God." I cover my face with my hands, laughing.
He blows out a sigh, "We're pretty good at this."
“Hate to admit it.”
“I’m serious, there’s something about us, about you…that’s different,”
“That’s the sex talking.”
“It’s not, I promise.”
I turn my head to look at him. He’s gonna be the death of me.
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