The paddock was still alive with celebration, reporters shouting questions, cameras flashing, champagne spraying—it was chaos. But Lando didn’t hear any of it. Not when all he could think about was you, leaning against the garage wall in his oversized jacket, looking breathtaking in the golden afternoon light. That smile of yours hit him harder than any trophy ever could.
“Come here,” he murmured, sweeping the last bit of hair from his face and grabbing your waist the second he reached you.
Before you could speak, his lips were on yours—hot, demanding, leaving no room for hesitation. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, feeling your pulse racing just like his own.
“Lando—” you breathed, almost pleading between kisses.
He silenced you with another, deeper kiss. “Not right now, love. I’ve been dying to touch you since lap one.”
Your fingers dug into the collar of his race suit as he pressed against you. “You just won a race, and that’s what you’re thinking about?”
“Always you,” he whispered, smirk playing on his lips. “Always.”
He tugged your hand and led you through the back hallway, past mechanics and crew, into a small, quiet storage room. The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly, the chaos of the paddock vanished. You were alone—just the two of you, the heat between your bodies almost unbearable.
He pressed you against the wall, lips immediately finding your neck. “You looked amazing today,” he murmured against your skin. “Standing here waiting for me… wearing my jacket. You have no idea what that does to me.”
Your breath caught. “Lando…”
“I know,” he breathed, kissing you again, harder this time, hands roaming your body like he’d memorized every inch of you. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
He slid his hands under your shirt, and the slight shiver that ran through you was enough to make him groan. “Cold?” he teased.
“No,” you whispered. “Just… you.”
That earned him a wicked grin before he kissed a trail down your neck, sucking gently and making you gasp. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he held you up, hands gripping your thighs.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse. “Am I making you nervous?”
“Shut up,” you breathed, pulling him into another kiss.
He moaned softly, burying his face in your neck. “I love when you talk like that.”
His fingers teased the waistband of your clothes, tugging slowly, deliberately, and your knees buckled at the sensation.
“You want this?” he asked, voice husky, lips brushing yours.
“I want you,” you whispered instantly.
“Good,” he said, a low growl in his throat. His hands slid under your clothes, exploring your skin, each touch sending shivers through your body. He kissed you everywhere—your stomach, your collarbone, your jaw—and you gasped at every brush of his lips.
When he lowered to his knees, you felt his mouth teasing you, slow at first, savoring, then deepening as your thighs trembled around him. “Lando—oh god—”
He groaned at the sound of his name, gripping your hips tighter. “Say it again,” he demanded, voice muffled against you.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly. “Lando—please…”
He inhaled sharply. “Don’t hold back. Not here. Not now.”
He lifted you again, pressing you flush against the wall, and entered you slowly, deliberately. You bit your lip, fingers gripping his shoulders.
“YN…” he groaned, voice breaking slightly, “you feel incredible.”
His hands slid over your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer. Every thrust was deliberate, each movement sending fire through your veins.
“Look at me,” he whispered. You met his eyes, pupils wide, breathless. “That’s it. Good girl.”
Your moans only spurred him on, his pace growing faster, rougher, desperate. “Keep saying my name,” he panted.
“Lando—Lando—yes…” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.
He groaned at the sound, thrusting deeper, faster, hips hitting just right. “Fuck—YN—you’re going to make me…” His voice cracked with need. “I’m losing it…”
Your legs trembled around him, your body on fire. He kissed your jaw, your collarbone, never breaking contact, never letting you forget he was right there with you.
“Are you close?” he whispered.
“Yes… Lando, I’m so close—please—”
He groaned again, thrusting into you hard, fast, and that was it—you tipped over the edge, trembling around him, your cry muffled by his lips.
He held you through it, kissing you through every shudder and tremor, whispering your name over and over. The sound of your body reacting drove him wild, and with a growl, he lost himself as well, thrusting into you with abandon.
When he came, it was slow, deep, all-consuming. He leaned against the wall, holding you up as he rode out the last moments, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged, pulse hammering.
For a long moment, you clung to each other, letting your breathing sync, letting the heat fade into a sticky, tender glow. He kissed your temple, then your jaw, then your lips again, softer now.
“I should win more often,” he murmured with a grin, voice still heavy with adrenaline.
You smacked his chest lightly, laughing breathlessly. “You just did. That’s enough for today.”
He fixed your clothes with careful hands, still holding you close. “Nah… I want to show you off tonight,” he whispered, fingers entwining with yours. “Come on. Let’s go before anyone notices we disappeared.”
You let him lead you out, chest still heaving, body still trembling from the intensity of it all. As you stepped back into the chaotic paddock, the flashes, the shouts, the champagne—they didn’t matter. You had him, and he had you. And after a day like this, nothing else could compete.
Lando pulled you close again, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, smirking against your hair. “Next race,” he whispered, “I’m doing this again. Right after the win.”
You laughed, breathless, resting your head against his chest. “I’ll be waiting.”
And with that, the two of you walked back into the madness, hands locked, hearts still racing, still screaming but together, unstoppable.
