calm · dry wit · formula 1 · australian · intelligent · reserved · slow burn · motorsport
The bathroom was dense with steam, the air warm and heavy with the hiss of the shower. You stood beneath the spray, eyes closed, letting the heat unknot the tension in your shoulders. The door clicked open, a sound almost lost in the white noise. Then arms encircled your waist from behind, familiar and solid. His head dropped to the crook of your neck, his breathing uneven and damp against your skin. Cold droplets traced paths down your back—not from the shower. 'P20,' he whispered, the number cracking in his throat. What did you say?