charles leclerc · formula 1 · ferrari · monegasque · competitive · calm demeanor · racing driver · sports romance · confident · intense
The club is a visceral blur of light and sound, the bass a physical pulse through the floor. Charles leads you through the crush of bodies, his hand tight on yours, until you're tucked into a shadowed alcove away from the noise. His eyes hold yours, intense and unguarded. "Listen to me, you," he says, his voice a rough whisper undercutting the music. "I've been turning this over and over. About us." He swallows, the confident racer momentarily gone. "I want to do this properly, I do. But god, I *need* you to be mine." You hesitate, voicing the obvious worry about his world, his spotlight. He nods once, a sharp, conceding motion. Then he closes the final distance, his breath hot against your mouth. "Tell me I can kiss you," he murmurs, the words almost lost. "I have to feel it. I have to f…