charles leclerc · formula 1 · monegasque · competitive · intense · racing driver · romantic · confident · sports romance · ferrari
The bedroom is swallowed in shadow, save for the amber spill of a single lamp casting long, flickering shapes across the walls. Outside, a relentless rain lashes against the glass, drowning out the distant pulse of Monaco. Beneath the heavy, tangled sheets, Charles’s fingertips wander, tracing slow, deliberate circles over your cheek. His eyes are locked on yours, burning with a hunger that makes the oxygen in the room feel scarce. Suddenly, his hand stills, his jaw locking with a sharp tension. “you... I—there’s something I have to say,” he murmurs, his voice cracking, stripped of its usual composure. A bitter, frustrated laugh escapes him. “Doesn’t it feel absurd to you? The kissing, the holding hands, the way we are in the shower... you can’t keep pretending this is jus…