Work Text:
lewis knew you could come today. just like every other time when he called, nevermind the nasty words thrown before he walked out of your apartment months ago. doesn't matter what the status of your relationship was with him.
"i'm sorry"
"let me make it up to you"
and attached below would be a plane ticket to melbourne. he was static the moment he saw you in front of his hotel suite, as if unable to believe that you were really here after the names you threw at each other. he was not sure what to do. afraid to talk, to touch you.
but you stepped inside like you owned the place. touch his face as if you were able to recognize how fragile he was after the race. then dropped to your knees on your own like he was a celestial being to worship. like you instantly knew what he needed was the heaven that is your mouth to take him deep, to make him forget about all the things that went wrong during the race.
you let him grab your hair. pull you up to bite your lip, desperate to draw blood darker than the ferrari he drove. he spanked your ass red like he was punishing himself for every car he couldn't overtake, for every time a strategy went wrong. and he'd fucked you stupid every time.
don't get it twisted. you and lewis loved each other, as every couple do. you loved him sincerely, not for the seven times champion of the world that he is, but for who he is beneath that glamourous persona. you loved him for lewis who doesn't like the smell of onions. who would ignore his nutritioner's advice and hide a sweet treat in his house every once in a while. who likes to tangle up his cold feet to yours every night under the cover. he bared himself to you more than he ever did with anyone else. but it was never a proper relationship. blame it on distance, blame it on commitment. maybe his name. perhaps you couldn't keep up with his fame. but lewis let the frustration of his work got to him even after he promised you that it wouldn't.
you love him, but you were not about to babysit his emotions. just like every othe ticking bomb, when the time's up, it exploded.
the first time he ghosted you and sent a break up text the next day, you weren't phased.
you've always known.
maybe some part of you expected this to happen. being with him was already a dream. perhaps when he walked out of your door without any word, it was time for you to wake up.
but he came back. and you still let him crawl back to bed with you. whispered apologies about things that he will most definitely do again. fucked you slow like you're still his.
because you are.
and the cycle continues.
singapore isn't any different.
the heat of the country doesn't compare to the one in this vintage ferrari, even after putting the air-conditioner to the highest setting and lowering the windows just enough to let the cold night air inside. lewis is next to you, one hand controlling the steering steadily with ease, the other on his lap with his eyes on the road. he has changed into a more comfortable clothes post-race, ditching his race suit to a plain white shirt that hugged every curve of his muscles deliciously alongside a cap paired with a luxurious dior jeans. he gave his jacket to you in the garage before the light went out, in which you tied around your hips before getting inside his car.
the vehicle is silent save it for the low hum of his playlist playing the weeknd on the radio. it's almost two in the morning, and the roads are quiet with almost no other car in sight except for a black mpv behind, driven by lewis' bodyguard.
when the car stops at red light, the british man finally speaks.
"i didn't think you'd come." he says, his voice a low but audible mumble without looking at you.
"i would always come." you avoid his eyes as well as you reply calmly, save it for the storm currently brewing in your heart.
"you didn't have to."
"i want to." your reply is quicker this time
"why?"
"because you need me."
pause.
you answered fast but confident. you did not stutter. like it was a no brainer to you. you catch how his grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly. his jaw flexes like he's restraining himself from speaking.
he doesn't like that you're right, doesn't like how you immediately read his text when he asked you to come to the grand prix here. without hesitation, no thinking about it twice.
"i keep treating you like you were replaceable." the way he said it was as if he was afraid of admitting the truth but knew that it had to come out eventually.
"no. if that were the case, you would have cheated. it's the expectations that got to you. the weight to perform, and i understand." pause. "it's the radio silence i don't like. that you don't trust me enough to share your world with me. you never talked, you just fucked me and disappeared. and you came back when you feel that things are about to crumble again."
the light finally changes to green, signalling him to drive again but he doesn't, letting the car mingle in the middle of the empty road.
when he finally turns to look at you, you see through the corner of your eyes that his are dark and intense with hidden emotions that he never showed before. and then finally he utters the million dollar question, quiet, like the answer will wreck him. "then why do you let me come back?"
you meet his eyes and answer like you've been waiting your whole life for this moment.
"because i love you." the words just slip out like they're instinct, and you have to bite your lower lip to keep yourself together. "because i know that under all the bravado and insecurities, you're actually a good man who cares. and i know you love me too. i'm just waiting for the time where you finally trust me."
lewis looks away. he exhales, and it's a strangled and choked up sound that seems like it was ripped out of his throat as the car moves again.
you could see the muscles in his jaw working, clenching and unclenching. his veins popping like they're trying to escape his skin. he's a known man of control. of composure. and right now he's trying to keep everything down. his thoughts, his feelings. fighting the guilt and shame that's overwhelming him with a force that never seemed to break.
for a moment, you want to reach for him. touch his skin. caress his face. comfort him. the same way you've always did when he walks into your space in vulnerability. when he feels like the sky is coming down on him. like he's the force that keeps this world together.
but you're exhausted too. of loving him so blindly to the point where you don't care if your feelings and your body are being discarded easily like they meant nothing to him after you gave him everything.
so you stay quiet. resting your hand on the handbrake, fingers wrapped around the cylinder, thumb absentmindedly brushing back and forth across the tip.
lewis almost choked on his breath when he saw.
he doesn't know if you did it on purpose to taunt him or not. the gesture makes him remember all the ways you touched him before. familiar and practiced. undoubted and confident. every touch seems to be made for him. that thumb of yours that's lazily brushing over the head of the handbrake was on his skin just a couple of weeks ago. your lips near his ears, whispering sweet nothings to distract him from the disasterous race in baku.
and then the shame and guilt flood back, like they always do. how dare he, being this greedy for you, while knowing damn well that he has done nothing to deserve it. to deserve you. your touch, your attention, your love.
but does lewis care?
no.
and so he speaks. "do you trust me?"
you jerk back to reality after your mind wandered somewhere else. your hand stops moving on the handbrake, now back to your lap, completely unaware of the effect that your previous action had on him.
you stare at lewis, taking in his sudden question. he's keeping his eyes on the road, but you could sense that something has shifted in the last couple of seconds.
"depends on what for." you say warily.
"i'm about to do something reckless."
an alarm bell starts blaring inside your head as soon as the answer leaves his mouth. reckless? the word "reckless" with lewis hamilton doesn't mix well. because lewis hamilton is not a man of chaos. or randomness or doing anything in a spur of the moment. he plans his outfits a week prior, arranges his instagram feed to match, schedules his errands for the whole month.
the difference tonight is having you next to him and you make him behaves the way he never thought he would.
you shift slight in your seat, asking carefully. "what do you mean?"
lewis doesn't answer. instead, he changes his gear, moves to a different lane and turns left without warning. both the speed of the car and your heartbeat accelerate, and you almost scream, grabbing your seatbelt and his thigh simultaneously to steady yourself in your seat.
"lewis!"
he pays no mind. flooring the pedal, his gaze switches back and forth between the back mirror and the road, trying to lose his bodyguards behind.
the car takes a several unexpected and random turns. and when lewis is sure that the sight of the mpv is gone, he slows down and parks his ferrari in an alley dark and quiet enough.
"you're fucking insane." you say, taking a harsh tone but without any malice. just a fact.
lewis doesn't comment, because you're right.
and you're the cause.
"where are we? what is this?" you demand.
lewis turns off the engine before glancing at you, unbuckling his seatbelt without looking away.
"you know what this is."
oh.
you shiver. swallowing. you recognize the dark look in his eyes. the way eay his pupils are blown in an undoubted lust. the low register of his voice is familiar, making you almost clench your thighs together.
"tell me to stop and i will. i'll send you home. i'll leave you alone. we can break up for good if you want to. i swear." his hand is still on the steering wheel. knuckles pale, restraining himself from acting until he hears your explicit consent.
you bite the inside of your cheek. he's giving your the window. and you should have taken it. you should have left. save yourself from more disappointment and hurt. break up with him for real.
but instead you scoff in bitterness.
"you're giving me a choice. how noble." how easy for him to just "end this". to leave, to run like he always did, but permanently this time. leaving you in an endless agony.
"i've hurt you enough. treated you like you were just a body not the woman i'm in love with. please. if you don't want to go, then use me instead."
your lips parted in disbelief at his request. it is unlike him to be like this, to ask of this. the great lewis hamilton is used to have things under control, commanding an entire room with his presence alone.
but now he wants to flip the script. instead of taking you for himself, he wants to be at your mercy. to feel the things that he made you feel previously. because after what he put you through, he knows that he deserves it.
"i'm going to ruin you." you say like it's a promise.
it is.
"please." and he wants it.
you seal it with a kiss.
it's not sweet, it's not soft. it's hard and messy. a revenge of those nights where he made you feel like you were just a piece of meat.
"you fucking love this, don't you?" you say, and lewis confirms it with a moan.
he does. he loves the way you grab his chin, claiming his mouth like he never tasted any other woman in his life. loves the way you bite his lip, sucking on his tongue like you want to destroy him. the groan that left your own mouth is music to his ears.
love the way you claw at his clothes, grinding your legs together because you still couldn't get enough of him.
"backseat." you say and he nods hungrily. both of you scramble to the backseat.
"touch yourself."
lewis pauses, still trying to catch his breath. "wh-what?"
despite the darkness, you see his eyes widen. but you didn't stutter. he wants you to wreck him, and you will.
"i want you to touch yourself while you're looking at me."
his cock twitches at the order. he's so used to being in charge, on and off the track, having and taking control over everything. he realizes that this is s what he asked for. but the idea of submission is still so foreign but not unwelcome.
his expensive dior jeans are barely off, just enough to free his hard cock, already leaks with pre-cum, demanding attention. his fingers wrapped around it, giving a few light stroke. a moan manages to leave his gritted teeth. he looks like he doesn't know where to start at first, but his gaze is locked at you, determined.
you swallow, desire spreading throughout your body as you watch how he's trying to put on a little show for you. your eyes roam over his body. the hardness of his cock, the goosebumps on his exposed skin. how his shoulders and arms tremble and ragged breath going in and out of his lips.
"you're hard already." you say, an almost casual statement that betrays the heat on your skin. "you're that desperate for me?"
he manages to let out a small breathless laugh, tilting his head back in a way that reveals his throat while keeping eye contact with you.
"o-only for you, sweetie— fuck...." he gasps, voice low and heavy with desire.
his jaw clenches as his hand starts to move, up and down on his hard length at a much more demanding pace. his eyes never leave you, watching as you drink in the way he's falling apart for your entertainment.
you bite your lip, your own pussy throbbing, calling his dick home. you're getting desperate yourself, wanting to undress him. running your nails across his broad body, biting into his flesh. you want to feel and touch every inch of him, on your own accord.
you force yourself to wait. it's not everyday you get to see lewis like this. it's not everyday he would let himself being controlled like this. the view is intoxicating, as if you are witnessing the secrets that he keeps behind closed doors. what he looks like when he's desperate for a release, when you weren't there to take care of him.
lewis is about to come. you can tell. you recognize his tells. the whine that fall from his quivering mouth. the way his breathing getting more ragged. his muscles tensing.
you crawl to him, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. his hand pauses as he moans, exhaling deeply into your mouth. his sounds then turn into a series of whimpers as your hand takes its turn on his cock, stroking him as you did with the handbrake earlier. pumping him in that perfect pace that has him ready to fall apart any minute now.
but not yet. you stop. lewis doesn't even get to react as you already bunch up your skirt, pushing your soaked panties to the side before you straddle his hips. breaking the kiss, you hold on to his shoulders as he does on your hips as if his life depends on it.
you don't sink down. not yet. just positioning your entrance above his cock, rolling your hips to tease his tip in a circle that drives him mad the longer he's not inside you.
your hands go up to remove the band that tied his braids together, grabbing a handful of them before pulling his head back, exposing his throat further. other hand gripping on his white calvin klein shirt, not giving a fuck if it's wrinkled or ruined.
"look at me." you almost growl. "beg."
you want him to feel what you feel. when he makes you beg and cry for his joy. you want him to get a taste of it.
every string of curses and hisses that are drawn from his tongue feels like a confession of his wrongdoings. a way to redeem himself and show how much of himself he's willing to give. he never had to do this, yet here he is. because he wants to. for you.
"please. oh god, please. i love you. i fucking love you. let me be inside you. please, sweetie."
he looks desperate. he sounds helpless. his fingers digging into you like he's afraid you'll take away the relief he's about to get.
and the love confession, the nickname, the praises... how many times have you heard them before? uttered whenever he's at his peak only to never be heard again in any other occasion.
still, you let yourself be a fool once more for him.
"fuck, sweetie." lewis moans as you sink down on his length, sharing a seat on his lap. he throws his head back, eyes shut tight like heaven is your pussy that he just enters. "f-fuck.... it's so tight."
you whimper, biting a purple mark into his skin as you let yourself adjust to his size. every single time, it feels like you're being split open on him. no matter how many times you've done it, that stretch that follows as you take him in feels so good that it almost hurts.
"you feel that? what it feels like to be good to me?" you purr, gripping his chin, forcing his eyes to meet yours as you move your hips, ruining his sanity.
what follows after are a song of pleasure and lust, your moans mixed with his whimpers and the music of your skin slapping against his. you didn't even know that he could sound like that. you have almost forgotten the way his jaw would gone slack, rendered speechless by the way your roll your hips like a goddess taking her needs from a mortal.
the windows are fogged up from the heat in the car. none of you care about what's happening outside. the thoughts of lewis' bodyguards or somebody else passing by failed to cross as both of you are getting lost in the heaven you two created in this vehicle.
you and lewis are all over each other. his tattooed hands on your back, his lips kissing whatever spot on your skin he could reach. your own fingers tightening on his braids as you feel it. that knot in your belly getting tighter and tighter. he can feel it too, knowing your little tells all too well.
"come for me. come for me, please. let me feel you, sweetie."
that does it for you. his pleads, how his voice cracked slightly as he begs for you to fall apart.
you scream in silent as you come, your hips slowing down but lewis doesnt. he takes over, fucking you through your orgasm to reach his own before spilling his seed inside you.
"back to my suite?" he murmurs, thick lips finding the sweet spots on your neck.
"i'm not done with you." you say, trying to sound threatening but your exhaustion is apparent. you feel lewis chuckling in the junction of your neck.
"sweetie, i could go again like three, four times. can you?"