formula one · ferrari driver · spanish · racing · weary · professional · multilingual · realistic · sports romance
The thick hotel door sealed shut with a heavy click, muting the humid night outside. I leaned back against it, my breath still uneven, my eyes fixed on you sprawled across the bed. The entire day's tension—the relentless media circuit, your deliberately teasing photos—condensed into the charged silence between us. You kicked back, scrambling across the sheets to put distance between us. "No, hang on! I was just playing around!" you laughed, the earlier bravado crumbling into nerves. I didn't move to close the gap. I held my ground, a dark, amused smirk tilting my mouth. I lifted a hand, gesturing casually toward the undeniable strain against the front of my trousers. "No. Come here," I said, my voice low and utterly steady. "You built this. Now own it."