‘Does England’s Golden Boy Deserve Better?’

a distinguished gentleman - t.w.

pairing: fem!reader x toto wolff

warnings: allusions to smut, mentions of oral (m! receiving), mentions of fingering (f! receiving), some cursing, lemme know if there's anything i missed, yadayadayada

a/n: this isn't necessarily a cohesive fic, more like a spitballing of the thots i have related to this topic. i hope y'all enjoy them hehehe <3 thank you to @chaerylecq for the inspo!!!

when it comes to driving, toto is the one who always offers.

after all, you are his passenger princess.

i feel like he wants you to be comfortable as possible in his car, so he always has a little makeup bag or cosmetics bag with deodorant, makeup remover, makeup wipes, perfume, etc., for you in case you ever need to touch up. he also has a plethora of hair accessories for you to use in case you ever need one. all you have to do is just reach in the glovebox, or he keeps the pouch in the center console for your convenience.

when he starts to drive, his hand is either resting comfortably on your thigh, or his fingers are intertwined with yours. for longer drives, he always offers for you to lay your legs on top of his. (even if it not necessarily the safest route)

his windows are tinted (duh) so there are numerous times in which his fingers are plunging into you, curling as they pump in and out. for clean up, he'll usually just have you suck on his fingers, groaning and cursing under his breath as your tongue laps at the juices.

if he can't wait until you make it home, he'll have your head bobbing, one hand clutching the wheel while the other is palming the back of your skull, applying pressure so that you'll go deeper and deeper. he prefers to keep the radio off, so the filthy, obscene noises will flood the intimate space. his desire to fuck you only soars by the second, his tip pressing deeper and deeper down your throat.

if he's desperate enough, he'll nearly swerve off to the nearest exit, pulling off in an enclave or parking lot. with his large stature, he typically has you ride him in the driver's seat, savoring the way your figure molds with his perfectly as the windows fog.

other times, he just wants to hear your voice, engaging you in deep conversation. there are a variety of topics, each with their own nuance and question he'll begin with. there's nothing more that he cherishes than drives with you, because he gets to build more and more emotional intimacy. getting to know you is one of his favorite things to do, so of course he's going to seize the opportunity.

he is the type of person to request kisses at stoplights, even if they are brief. there was one time he took you cruising along the brackley campus, purposefully stopping for as long as possible at the lights or signs, just so that he can get a smooch.

of course, you don't mind. you love him. oh so dearly. of course you're going to kiss him whenever the opportunity is presented.

also, you are the one who has the aux most of the time, your phone paired to the bluetooth the second you're in that passenger seat. he enjoys your taste in music, finding a new favorite song or two each time. sometimes he'll ask you to add the song to his personal playlist, not shy in the fact that he gets a lot of his new music from his girl.

whether it's cruises at night, enjoying the skylines of whichever city you're in, or countryside tours, you just love being in that passenger seat. there are times in which you tease that he needs to get that section of the dash engraved, customized with your name.

little do you know, he has that in the works.

not just for that car, but for every vehicle in his fleet.

I’ll Be Waiting

Toto Wolff x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Hedeby, 952

The crackling fire casts long shadows across the great hall as Toto sits upon his ornate wooden throne. His piercing brown eyes scan the room, filled with boisterous warriors celebrating their latest successful raid. But his gaze keeps returning to you, his most favored thrall, as you move gracefully among the revelers, refilling their horns with mead.

“You there,” Toto calls out, his deep voice cutting through the din. “Come hither.”

Your heart quickens as you approach, head bowed respectfully. “Yes, my Jarl?”

Toto leans forward, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Tell me, how fares the celebration? Are our warriors content?”

You risk a glance up, meeting his intense gaze. “They are in high spirits, my Jarl. Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“And what of you?” Toto asks, his voice lowering. “Are you content in my service?”

A flush creeps up your neck. “I am honored to serve you, my Jarl. There is no greater joy.”

Toto nods, satisfied. “Good. I have a task for you. Meet me in my private chambers after the feast.”

As you turn to leave, a hand grabs your arm. It’s Ingrid, Toto’s wife, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What did my husband want with you?” She hisses.

You try to keep your voice steady. “He merely asked about the celebration, my lady.”

Ingrid’s grip tightens. “Do not think I am blind to the way he looks at you. Remember your place, thrall.”

She releases you and you hurry away, your mind racing. As the night wears on, you can feel Toto’s eyes following you, and the weight of Ingrid’s glares.

Finally, the feast winds down. With trepidation, you make your way to Toto’s private chambers. You knock softly.

“Enter,” comes his voice from within.

You step inside, finding Toto standing by the window, silhouetted against the starry night sky.

“Close the door,” he says without turning.

You obey, your pulse quickening. “You wanted to see me, my Jarl?”

Toto turns, his expression unreadable. “I did. Come closer.”

You approach cautiously, stopping a respectful distance away. Toto closes the gap between you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“Do you know why I summoned you here?” He asks softly.

You swallow hard. “No, my Jarl.”

Toto’s hand cups your cheek. “I think you do. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. It mirrors the way I look at you.”

Your eyes widen. “My Jarl, I-”

“Shh,” he interrupts gently. “You need not speak. I know your heart, as you know mine.”

He leans in, his lips a breath away from yours. “Tell me to stop and I will. But know that you hold my heart in your hands.”

Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss. For a moment, the world falls away, and there is only Toto and the fire he ignites within you.

Suddenly, the door bursts open. You jump apart to see Ingrid standing there, her face contorted with rage.

“I knew it!” She screams. “You treacherous whore!”

Before either of you can react, Ingrid pulls a dagger from her belt and lunges at you. Pain explodes in your abdomen as the blade finds its mark.

“No!” Toto roars, catching you as you collapse.

He lowers you gently to the floor, pressing his hands against the wound. “Stay with me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

You try to speak, but only a gurgle escapes your lips. The world starts to fade around you.

“Guards!” Toto shouts. “Fetch the healer!”

But you know it’s too late. As your vision darkens, the last thing you see is Toto’s anguished face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I will find you,” he whispers fiercely. “In this life or the next. I swear it.”

With your last breath, you manage to whisper, “I’ll be waiting.”

As your eyes close for the final time, you feel Toto’s lips press against your forehead, sealing a promise that will echo through lifetimes to come.

Vatican City, 1493

The opulent halls of the Vatican echo with hushed whispers and the rustle of silk as you make your way through the winding corridors. Your heart races, not with the excitement of a bride-to-be, but with the desperate resolve of one about to take a drastic step.

As you round a corner, a strong hand grasps your arm, pulling you into a shadowy alcove. You find yourself face to face with Cardinal Toto, his eyes filled with concern.

“My love,” he whispers urgently, “what are you doing here? The wedding is but hours away.”

You place a trembling hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the rich fabric of his robes. “I had to see you one last time.”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean? Speak plainly, I beg you.”

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself. “I cannot go through with this farce of a marriage. My father may sell me to the highest bidder, but he cannot sell my heart.”

Toto’s eyes widen in alarm. “What are you planning? Tell me you haven’t done anything foolish.”

You pull a small vial from the folds of your dress. “It is already done, my love. The poison courses through my veins even as we speak.”

“No!” Toto gasps, gripping your shoulders. “How could you? We would have found another way!”

Tears well in your eyes. “There is no other way. My father’s ambition knows no bounds. This was the only path left to me.”

Toto pulls you close, his voice breaking. “Then I shall follow you into the darkness. I cannot live in a world without you.”

You push him away gently. “You must live, Toto. Live and remember me. Perhaps in another life, we will find each other again.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “I will not let you go. Not again. I’ve only just found you in this life, and I refuse to lose you once more.”

Confusion flickers across your face. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

Toto cups your face in his hands. “I’ve had dreams, vivid as memories, of us in another time. A great hall, a celebration ... and a tragic end. I swore I would find you, and I have. I will not be parted from you now.”

You sway on your feet, the poison beginning to take effect. “Toto, please. You must let me go. Your life, your position ...”

“Mean nothing without you,” he finishes firmly. “Come, we must get you to a physician. Perhaps there is still time to counteract the poison.”

As he tries to lead you away, you stumble, your legs giving way beneath you. Toto catches you, lowering you gently to the floor.

“Help!” He calls out, his voice echoing through the halls. “Someone, help us!”

You clutch at his robes weakly. “It’s too late, my love. But know that I go to my death with a heart full of love for you.”

Footsteps approach rapidly. A group of guards rounds the corner, led by your father, Pope Alexander VI. His face contorts with rage at the sight before him.

“What is the meaning of this?” He thunders. “Cardinal Wolff, explain yourself!”

Toto looks up, defiance blazing in his eyes. “Your daughter lies dying, Your Holiness. Will you not call for aid?”

Your father’s gaze hardens. “My daughter knows her duty. She will marry as I have decreed.”

“She has taken poison rather than submit to your schemes,” Toto spits out. “Is your ambition worth more than your daughter’s life?”

For a moment, shock flickers across your father’s face. Then his expression hardens once more. “Guards, seize the Cardinal. He has clearly bewitched my daughter’s mind.”

As the guards move to comply, you summon the last of your strength. “Father, please. Let me die in peace, with the man I love.”

Your words give the guards pause. They look to the Pope, uncertainty in their eyes.

Your father’s face twists with conflicting emotions. “You would throw away everything for this ... this upstart Cardinal?”

“I would throw away everything for love,” you whisper. “Something you have long forgotten the meaning of.”

A tense silence falls over the group. Then, to everyone’s surprise, your father waves the guards away. “Leave us,” he commands.

As they retreat, he kneels beside you, his voice softer than you’ve heard it in years. “My child, what have you done?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “I have chosen my own fate, father. For once in my life, I have made my own choice.”

Toto holds you closer, his tears falling freely now. “Is there truly nothing to be done?” He asks, his voice raw with anguish.

Your father shakes his head slowly. “The poison she favors ... it is swift and irreversible. I had thought to use it on our enemies, not ...” He trails off, unable to finish the thought.

As your breath grows more labored, you turn to Toto. “Promise me something, my love.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Live,” you whisper. “Live and do good in this world. And when your time comes, look for me in the next life. I will be waiting.”

Toto presses his forehead to yours. “I swear it. I will find you again, in this life or the next.”

With your last ounce of strength, you pull him into a final kiss. As your lips part, you feel the life leaving your body.

The last thing you hear is Toto’s anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the halls of the Vatican, but across time itself.

As darkness claims you, a strange sense of remembrance washes over you. You’ve been here before, you realize. And somehow, you know you’ll be here again. For your love is one that transcends death itself, destined to play out across the ages until, at last, you and Toto find your happily ever after.

Virginia, 1863

The makeshift field hospital buzzes with frantic activity as wounded soldiers are brought in from the front lines. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Amidst the chaos, you move with practiced efficiency, your nurse’s apron already stained with the day’s grim work.

Suddenly, a commotion at the entrance catches your attention. Your heart stops as you recognize the unconscious figure being carried in on a stretcher.

“Toto!” You cry out, rushing to his side.

The soldiers carrying him look grim. “It’s the Commander, ma’am. He took a bullet meant for one of his men.”

You quickly assess the wound, your medical training warring with your rising panic. “Put him here,” you direct, indicating an empty cot.

As they lay Toto down, his eyes flutter open. “Y/N?” He murmurs weakly. “Is that you, my love?”

You grasp his hand tightly. “I’m here, darling. You’re going to be alright.”

Toto manages a pained smile. “You always were a terrible liar, my dear.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you scold, fighting back tears as you begin to clean his wound. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t allow it.”

He chuckles, then winces. “If only your determination could heal bullet wounds.”

As you work, you keep up a steady stream of conversation, partly to distract Toto from the pain and partly to keep your own rising fear at bay.

“Do you remember when we first met?” You ask, your hands moving swiftly to staunch the bleeding. “At that ridiculous ball in Washington?”

Toto’s eyes soften at the memory. “How could I forget? You were the most beautiful woman in the room, and I was the fool who spilled champagne all over your dress.”

You laugh despite yourself. “And then you insisted on giving me your jacket to cover the stain, even though it was three sizes too big.”

“It was worth the embarrassment,” Toto says softly. “It got you to talk to me.”

A sharp intake of breath from Toto makes you pause in your ministrations. “I’m sorry, love. I know it hurts.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re doing your best. You always do.”

You blink back tears, focusing on the task at hand. “We have so much left to do, Toto. Remember our plans? The house by the lake, the children we talked about ...”

Toto’s hand finds yours, squeezing weakly. “Tell me about them. Our children.”

You swallow hard, playing along even as your heart breaks. “Well, there’s little Torger, of course. He would have your eyes and your stubborn chin.”

“Poor lad,” Toto quips, his voice growing fainter.

“And our daughter,” you continue, your voice wavering. “She would be as smart as her father and as headstrong as her mother. Heaven help us when she would’ve gotten older.”

Toto’s eyes begin to drift closed. “They sound perfect.”

Panic seizes you. “Toto? Toto, stay with me. Please, darling, you have to fight.”

His eyes open again with visible effort. “I’m trying, my love. But I’m so tired.”

You look around frantically. “Doctor! We need a doctor here!”

But the overwhelmed medical staff are all occupied with other critical patients. You’re on your own.

“Look at me,” you plead, cupping his face in your hands. “Do you remember what you promised me on our wedding day? You said you’d love me in this life and the next. You can’t break that promise now.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face. “The next life,” he murmurs. “Yes, I remember. I’ve always remembered, somehow.”

Confusion mixes with your fear. “What do you mean?”

Toto’s gaze becomes distant. “I’ve loved you before, Y/N. In other times, other places. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.”

You shake your head, tears flowing freely now. “You’re delirious, my love. Save your strength.”

“No,” Toto insists with surprising force. “Listen to me. This isn’t the end. I will find you again. I swear it.”

His words stir something deep within you, a sense of déjà vu so strong it takes your breath away. “Toto, I-”

But before you can finish, Toto’s body is wracked by a violent coughing fit. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

“No, no, no,” you chant, redoubling your efforts to save him. “Don’t you dare leave me, Toto Wolff. Don’t you dare.”

Toto manages to lift a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. “My brave, beautiful Y/N. How I wish we had more time.”

You lean into his touch. “We will. You’ll get better and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

But even as you say the words, you can feel Toto slipping away. His breathing becomes more labored, his skin growing cold beneath your touch.

“Kiss me,” he whispers. “One last time.”

Choking back a sob, you lean down and press your lips to his. You try to pour all your love, all your hope, all your desperation into that kiss.

As you pull back, Toto’s eyes meet yours one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” he breathes.

And then he’s gone.

For a moment, you’re frozen in disbelief. Then a wail of anguish tears from your throat, echoing through the hospital tent.

As you collapse across Toto’s still form, sobs wracking your body, a strange sensation washes over you. It’s as if you’re remembering something you’ve never experienced — other lives, other deaths, other heartbreaks.

In that moment, you know with absolute certainty that this isn’t the end. Somehow, someway, you and Toto will find each other again.

As the chaos of the field hospital swirls around you, you whisper a promise against Toto’s cold lips. “I’ll be waiting for you, my love. In this life or the next.”

And somewhere, beyond the veil of death, a spark of hope ignites. The wheel of time turns, and two souls begin their journey once more, drawn together by a love that refuses to die.

London, 1894

The London fog hangs heavy in the air as you hurry through the winding streets, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and fear. You pull your cloak tighter, glancing over your shoulder to ensure you haven’t been followed. Finally, you reach your destination: a nondescript townhouse in a respectable neighborhood.

You knock quickly, a pre-arranged pattern. The door opens almost immediately, and you’re pulled inside by strong, familiar arms.

“My darling,” Toto Wolff murmurs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. “I was beginning to worry.”

You melt into his embrace, inhaling his comforting scent. “I’m sorry, love. It was difficult to get away tonight.”

Toto’s brow furrows as he notices your wince when he holds you. “He hurt you again, didn’t he?”

You look away, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing, Toto. Please, let’s not waste our precious time together talking about him.”

But Toto gently cups your face, turning it towards him. “It’s not nothing. You don’t deserve this, Y/N. Let me take you away from all this. We could start a new life together, somewhere far from here.”

You sigh, leaning into his touch. “You know we can’t. The scandal would ruin you. Your business, your reputation ...”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Toto insists. “I care about you. I love you.”

Those three words, so freely given, bring tears to your eyes. “And I love you. More than I ever thought possible. But the world isn’t kind to women who leave their husbands, no matter how cruel those husbands might be.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Then let me confront him. I have influence, connections. I could make him disappear.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, I won’t have you risk everything for me. These stolen moments ... they’re enough. They have to be.”

Toto pulls you close again, more gently this time. “They’ll never be enough. Not when I know you’re suffering. Not when every fiber of my being aches to make you my wife, to give you the life you deserve.”

You look up at him, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. “Sometimes ... sometimes I feel as though we’ve lived this before. This longing, this impossible love. Does that sound mad?”

A strange expression crosses Toto’s face. “No, my love. It doesn’t sound mad at all. I’ve felt it too. As if we’ve known each other across lifetimes.”

You’re about to respond when a loud banging on the door makes you both jump.

“Open up, Wolff!” A familiar, slurred voice calls out. “I know she’s in there!”

Your blood runs cold. “It’s him. Oh God, Toto, it’s my husband. He must have followed me.”

Toto’s expression hardens. “Stay here,” he commands, moving towards the door.

But you grab his arm. “No, please! He’s drunk, he’s dangerous. Let me handle this.”

Before Toto can protest, you rush to the door and open it slightly. Your husband’s red, enraged face greets you.

“So it’s true,” he snarls. “My own wife, carrying on with this ... this upstart robber baron!”

You try to keep your voice calm. “Richard, please. Let’s go home and talk about this.”

But Richard is beyond reason. He shoves the door open, nearly knocking you over. Toto is there in an instant, steadying you.

“Get your hands off my wife,” Richard growls.

Toto’s voice is ice cold. “I suggest you leave, sir. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

Richard laughs bitterly. “Regret? The only thing I regret is not seeing this sooner. How long has this been going on, eh? How long have you been making a fool of me?”

You step forward, hands raised placatingly. “Richard, please. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think?” Richard roars. “Do you take me for an idiot?”

In his rage, he lashes out, his hand connecting with your cheek with a sickening crack. You stumble backwards, crying out in pain.

Toto moves with lightning speed, tackling Richard to the ground. “How dare you lay a hand on her!” He shouts, his fist connecting with Richard’s jaw.

The two men grapple on the floor, trading blows. You watch in horror, frozen in place.

Suddenly, Richard’s hand emerges from his coat, clutching a revolver. Time seems to slow down as he aims it at Toto.

“No!” You scream, throwing yourself between them just as Richard pulls the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot is deafening in the small space. For a moment, everything is still. Then you look down, seeing the rapidly spreading red stain on your dress.

“Y/N!” Toto cries out, catching you as you collapse.

Richard stares in shock, the gun falling from his limp fingers. “I ... I didn’t mean ...”

But Toto isn’t listening. He’s cradling you in his arms, his face a mask of anguish. “Stay with me, my love. Please, stay with me.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Toto ... my Toto ...”

“Don’t speak,” he urges. “Save your strength. Help is coming.”

But you both know it’s too late. You can feel your life ebbing away with each labored breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry we never got our chance.”

Toto’s tears fall on your face as he leans close. “Don’t be sorry. We’ll have another chance. I swear it. I’ll find you again, in the next life.”

A sense of peace washes over you at his words. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Toto vows fiercely. “This isn’t the end for us. It can’t be.”

With the last of your strength, you pull him down for a final kiss. As your lips meet, memories flood your mind – not just of this life, but of others. Viking halls, Vatican corridors, Civil War battlefields. Through it all, one constant.

Toto.

As darkness closes in, you manage one last whisper. “Until we meet again, my love.”

Your eyes close, your hand going limp in Toto’s grasp. The last thing you hear is his anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the room, but across time itself.

Indiana, 1932

The dilapidated streets of the once-thriving town are a stark contrast to the sleek black car that rolls through them. A powerful mobster sits in the back, his sharp eyes taking in the changes a decade has wrought on his childhood home.

As the car stops in front of a run-down tenement, a young boy approaches cautiously. Toto steps out, adjusting his expensive suit.

“You Toto?” The boy asks, eyeing him warily.

Toto nods. “I am. And you must be Jimmy. You’ve grown since I last saw you.”

Jimmy’s face darkens. “Yeah, well, a lot’s changed. You here to see her?”

“I am,” Toto confirms, his voice softening. “How is she, Jimmy?”

The boy’s shoulders slump. “Not good, mister. Not good at all. Follow me.”

As they climb the creaking stairs, Jimmy speaks in a low voice. “She’s been sick for months. Tuberculosis, the doc says. But she won’t stop giving her food to us kids. Says we need it more.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I would have-”

“She wouldn’t let us,” Jimmy interrupts. “Said you had your own life now, that she didn’t want to be a burden.”

They reach a door on the third floor. Jimmy hesitates before opening it. “Just ... prepare yourself, okay?”

Toto steels himself as they enter the small, dimly lit room. His heart nearly stops when he sees you lying on the bed, a mere shadow of the vibrant girl he remembers.

Your eyes light up when you see him, even as a coughing fit wracks your frail body. “Toto? Is it really you?”

He’s at your side in an instant, taking your hand in his. “It’s me, my love. I’m here.”

You manage a weak smile. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s not safe for you here.”

Toto shakes his head, fighting back tears. “To hell with safety. Why didn’t you tell me you were ill? I could have helped.”

Another cough shakes you, and this time, blood stains your lips. Toto reaches for a handkerchief, gently wiping it away.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you whisper. “You’ve done so well for yourself, Toto. I couldn’t bear to drag you back here.”

Toto’s voice is fierce. “You could never be a burden. Don’t you know that you’re everything to me?”

You look at him sadly. “We were children then. The world’s changed. We’ve changed.”

“Not where it matters,” he insists. “My feelings for you have never changed.”

Jimmy, who’s been hovering by the door, speaks up. “I’ll, uh, give you two some privacy.” He slips out, closing the door behind him.

Alone now, Toto takes in your gaunt face, your hollow cheeks. “Why haven’t you been eating?” He asks softly.

You look away. “Times are hard. The children need it more than I do.”

“And what about what you need?” Toto demands, his voice breaking. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to know? That I wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help you?”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve built a new life. I’m just ... I’m just a relic of the past.”

Toto cups your face gently, turning it towards him. “You’re not a relic. You’re the love of my life. The only thing that’s mattered all these years.”

You search his eyes, seeing the truth there. “Oh, Toto. I’ve missed you so much.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get you better and then-”

But you shake your head weakly. “It’s too late for that, my love. I can feel it. I don’t have much time left.”

“Don’t say that,” Toto pleads. “You can’t give up. Not now that we’re together again.”

Another coughing fit overtakes you, more violent than before. When it subsides, you look at Toto with a strange mix of sadness and wonder.

“You know,” you murmur, “I’ve had the strangest dreams lately. Of us, together, but in different times, different places. Is that mad?”

Toto’s breath catches. “No, it’s not mad at all. I’ve had them too. Like ... like we’ve lived this love before.”

You manage a small smile. “Perhaps we have. Perhaps we always will.”

Toto brings your hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “Then let this not be the end. Fight, my love. Fight to stay with me.”

“I’m trying,” you whisper. “But I’m so tired, Toto. So very tired.”

He climbs onto the bed, gathering you carefully in his arms. “Then rest. I’ve got you now. I’m not letting go.”

You nestle against his chest, feeling safe for the first time in years. “Toto?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Will you tell me about your life? What you’ve been doing all these years?”

Toto hesitates, not wanting to speak of his less-than-legal activities. But he sees the genuine interest in your eyes and begins to talk, telling you sanitized versions of his rise to power.

As he speaks, he feels you relaxing in his arms, your breathing becoming more even. For a moment, he allows himself to hope.

But then you look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of love and regret. “I wish we had more time,” you breathe.

Toto’s heart clenches. “We will. You’re going to get better, and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

You shake your head slightly. “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Look after them. Jimmy and the others. They’ll need someone now.”

Toto nods, tears flowing freely now. “I promise. But you’ll be here too. You have to be.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Kiss me? One last time?”

Choking back a sob, Toto leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, desperate kiss.

As you part, you look into his eyes one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” you whisper.

And then you’re gone, your body going limp in Toto’s arms.

For a moment, the world stands still. Then Toto’s anguished cry echoes through the small room, a sound of grief so profound it seems to transcend time itself.

As he holds your lifeless body, Toto makes a silent vow. He will find you again, in this life or the next. For a love like yours cannot be bound by the limits of a single lifetime.

Monaco, 2024

The bustling energy of the paddock swirls around you as you make your way through the crowd, one hand resting protectively on your slightly swollen belly. Despite the chaos, you move with confidence, knowing that at any moment ...

“There you are, mein Schatz,” a familiar voice calls out. Toto appears at your side as if by magic. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you feeling alright? Do you need to sit down?”

You can’t help but smile at his concern. “I’m fine, Toto. Just taking a little walk. The baby’s been restless today.”

Toto’s hand immediately joins yours on your belly, his face lighting up with wonder. “Is that so? Well then, little one, let’s find a more comfortable spot for your mother, shall we?”

Before you can protest, Toto is guiding you towards the Mercedes hospitality area, his arm protectively around your waist. As you walk, heads turn and whispers follow. It’s still a novelty for many to see the usually intense and focused Toto Wolff so openly affectionate.

“Toto, really, I’m okay,” you insist, even as you allow him to lead you. “You don’t need to fuss so much.”

He gives you a look that’s equal parts love and stubbornness. “Nonsense. It’s my job to fuss over you. Both of you.”

As you enter the cool, quiet Mercedes suite, Toto immediately starts arranging pillows on a plush sofa. “Here, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? Perhaps a foot massage?”

You laugh, settling onto the sofa. “A water would be lovely, thank you. But then you need to relax. Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

Toto waves a hand dismissively as he fetches your water. “The team can manage without me for a few minutes. You and our child are my priority.”

As he hands you the water and sits beside you, you can’t help but marvel at the man before you. Toto Wolff, the billionaire, the racing mogul, the man whose mere presence commands respect throughout the paddock — and here he is, fussing over you like a mother hen.

“What are you thinking about?” Toto asks, noticing your contemplative expression.

You take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Just ... how different things are now. How perfect. Sometimes I feel like we’ve been waiting lifetimes for this happiness.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face, a mix of recognition and wonder. “You know, I’ve had that same feeling. Like we knew each other before.”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine. “It’s odd, isn’t it? But it feels ... right, somehow.”

Toto pulls you closer, his hand resting on your belly once more. “Perhaps we have known each other across lifetimes. And perhaps this is the one where we finally got it right.”

Just then, you feel a strong kick from the baby. Toto’s eyes widen in delight.

“Did you feel that?” He exclaims, his usual composure completely forgotten.

You laugh, wincing slightly. “Trust me, I felt it. I think someone’s eager to join the conversation.”

Toto leans down, speaking directly to your belly. “Hello there, little racer. Are you practicing your podium celebrations already?”

As if in response, there’s another kick. Toto looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears of joy.

“I never knew I could be this happy,” he murmurs. “You’ve given me everything. A love I never thought possible, a family of my own ...”

You cup his cheek, touched by his openness. “Oh, Toto. You’ve given me just as much. More, even. You’ve given me a home, a sense of belonging I’ve never had before.”

Toto turns his head to kiss your palm. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you always feel that way. Both of you.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Toto sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

“Come in,” he calls out, his ‘team principal’ voice back in place.

A nervous-looking intern pokes his head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the strategy meeting is about to start. They’re asking for you.”

Toto nods. “Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment.”

As the intern leaves, Toto turns back to you with an apologetic smile. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Will you be alright here?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll be fine. Go, lead your team to victory. We’ll be right here cheering you on.”

Toto stands, but hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? I could have someone bring you some snacks or maybe a blanket if you’re cold ...”

“Toto,” you say firmly, but with affection. “Go. We’re fine. I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”

He leans down to kiss you softly. “Alright, alright. I’m going. I love you both so much.”

“We love you too,” you reply, giving him a gentle push. “Now go be the brilliant team principal I married.”

As Toto finally leaves, you settle back into the couch, your hands resting on your belly. You feel another kick and smile.

“Your father’s quite something, isn’t he?” You murmur to your unborn child. “But don’t worry. No matter how busy he gets, no matter how many races he wins, you and I will always be his greatest victory.”

As you sit there, surrounded by the muffled sounds of the paddock, you’re filled with a sense of contentment so profound it almost overwhelms you. After so many lifetimes of heartache and separation, you and Toto have finally found your happily ever after.

And as your baby kicks again, you smile, knowing that this is just the beginning of your greatest adventure yet.

the fastest driver part 1

summary: you are a young and talented driver, who begins your journey in Formula 1 with Ferrari. despite your undeniable ability, you are constantly relegated to the background due to the Scuderia's strategies, which always favor your teammate, Charles Leclerc.

warnings: nothing for now

word counter: 9026

author's note: english is not my first language, this is from an amazing request

You grew up in a small town where dusty streets were your first track, and the only kart your parents could afford became an extension of yourself. You spent years perfecting your skills under the blazing sun, your hands always stained with grease, while dreaming of the big leagues. Your determination and talent didn’t go unnoticed for long, and by the age of seventeen, you were already competing in Formula 3, winning races, and building a reputation that few could ignore.

However, the transition to Formula 1 was no fairy tale. Despite your achievements in the lower categories, many doors remained closed. You were a woman in a sport dominated by men, and while you hated admitting it, you knew the battle to prove yourself extended beyond the circuits. But when Ferrari came calling, you realized all your sacrifices had been worth it. Ferrari, the team with the most history and prestige in Formula 1, had set its sights on you.

The first time you set foot in Maranello, Ferrari's heart, you felt a mix of nerves and excitement. The walls of the main building were adorned with iconic images: Lauda, Schumacher, Vettel... all the greats who had raced for the Scuderia. And now you were there, ready to make your mark in history.

They introduced you to Charles Leclerc, your teammate. Tall, charismatic, and with a smile that could disarm anyone, Charles greeted you politely but with a reserved attitude. It was clear he wasn’t going to let his guard down around you.

The technical team showed you the SF24, the car you’d be driving that season. It was beautiful, a machine designed to fly on asphalt, and when you finally sat in the cockpit for the first time, everything felt right. This was your place.

Preseason testing in Barcelona was your first big challenge. The media was eager to see you in action, and the headlines were as varied as they were predictable: some hailed you as a breath of fresh air for Formula 1, while others questioned your ability to handle the pressure.

When you finally hit the track, all the external noise disappeared. It was just you, the car, and the circuit. From the first lap, you proved you belonged in this world. Your times were competitive, sometimes even better than Charles’, which didn’t go unnoticed by the team or the press.

But then, in the middle of your best stint, you received a radio message: “Box, box. We need to check something on the car.” There was nothing to check, and you knew it. But you obeyed. Charles needed more track time, and Ferrari made sure he got it.

The day of the first race in Bahrain was a whirlwind of emotions. Seeing your name on the red cars alongside Charles’ was a dream come true. But you also knew your real challenge was just beginning.

You qualified third, right behind Charles, which left the team satisfied but not surprised. In the race, you had a spectacular start, overtaking Charles at the first corner. Adrenaline surged through your body as you realized you were leading the race for Ferrari. But then the radio crackled again: “Let Charles through. He has better pace.”

You clenched your teeth. You knew it wasn’t true, that you had the pace to fight for the win, but you also understood the unwritten rules of the Scuderia: Charles was number one. So you lifted your foot off the accelerator, watching as Charles took the lead while a bitter frustration built up inside you.

You finished second, a result any rookie would have celebrated, but for you, it wasn’t enough. In the press conference, journalists bombarded you with questions about being relegated to second fiddle. You smiled professionally and replied that it was all for the good of the team, but inside, you were burning.

The dynamics within Ferrari didn’t take long to settle. You were the driver who followed orders, no matter how illogical or unfair they seemed. From the beginning, you had accepted that a place in Formula 1 was a hard-earned privilege and that surviving in such a legendary team required showing commitment and loyalty. But at Ferrari, the price of that loyalty seemed increasingly steep.

You were always the first to arrive at the garage and the last to leave. You immersed yourself in the technical details, analyzing every bit of data from the car and holding long meetings with the engineers. But no matter how hard you worked, there was always an invisible line you couldn’t cross. Every strategy, every race decision, seemed designed to keep you in your place: the perfect support for Charles Leclerc, Ferrari’s "star man."

Some moments were particularly frustrating. Like that Sunday in Monaco, when the sky threatened rain and the track conditions were changing rapidly. You were in a strong position, right behind Leclerc, and clearly faster than him at that point. When you asked for permission to attack over the radio, the response was curt:

“Hold position. The priority is to protect Charles’ race.”

That day, you bit your lip and obeyed. You lifted slightly in every corner, letting Charles pull away enough to avoid pressuring him. And, as if it were a cruel joke, Charles’ strategy backfired: he was called to the pits at the wrong time, losing all his advantage. Meanwhile, you got stuck in traffic you couldn’t overcome with the car you had. You finished off the podium.

You could have screamed, could have let out your frustration, but you didn’t. When journalists approached with questions about the strategy, your response was impeccable, the “good girl” answer they expected:

“It’s part of racing. I trust the team and the decisions they make.”

Even when you didn’t feel it, even when it ate away at you inside.

Ferrari, an institution as legendary as it was unyielding, seemed to thrive on your docility. In internal meetings, you weren’t the one to stand up and challenge the strategists or argue over team orders. It was Charles who raised his voice, who demanded explanations or changes. You, on the other hand, nodded, worked harder, and returned to the grind. In the team’s eyes, that attitude made you the perfect driver to support the project. “Predictable,” some would say. “Reliable,” others would call it.

However, there were days when the injustice weighed too heavily. You remembered races like Silverstone, where you led for more than 20 laps, only to receive the order to let Charles through under the pretext that he had better pace. You complied without protest, watching your chance for a first victory vanish with a maneuver that didn’t even make sense to the commentators.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” a journalist asked you in the post race press conference, almost reproachfully.

Your answer was automatic:

“The team has its reasons, and I trust them.”

But inside, you wanted to scream. Of course, you wanted to fight. You wanted to prove you hadn’t come this far just to be a shadow.

Despite everything, you never broke. You kept working, accumulating miles, and learning every step of the way. At Ferrari, you were known as the hardest worker, the one who spent extra hours reviewing data and analyzing races. Sometimes, even Charles joked with you:

“You should relax a bit. You don’t need to prove so much to the team; they already know you’re good.”

But you knew it wasn’t enough. Your place always seemed precarious, as if you were under constant evaluation, always one step behind in the team’s priorities.

Throughout the season, this dynamic became so evident that even some fans began to notice the disparity. On social media, the discussions were constant: some praised your obedience, seeing you as the ideal teammate, while others criticized Ferrari for not giving you a fair chance. You didn’t say anything, but you read the comments. You felt the frustration of those who wanted to see you succeed, and that gave you strength to keep going.

And although that helped you move forward, there were things that got in the way. Spending so much time with Charles Leclerc was inevitable. You shared meetings, strategies, team dinners, and endless travels from one circuit to another. Sometimes, during long waits at airports or motorhome rides, he relaxed enough to drop the façade of being the perfect driver.

It was in those moments that you began to notice him differently. Maybe it was the way his smile widened when you managed to make him laugh with your sarcastic comments or how he looked at you with a mix of awe and admiration when you discussed strategies, showing detailed knowledge of every technical aspect. You found yourself anticipating those small moments, those conversations where the weight of the motorsport world seemed to disappear, even if just for a few minutes.

At first, you tried to ignore it. You told yourself it was nothing, simply a side effect of being so close to someone for so long. But little by little, that feeling began to grow. You found yourself watching him during meetings, noticing details that had previously gone unnoticed: the slight accent in his English, the way he ran a hand through his hair when frustrated, his easy laughter when something truly amused him.

Reality hit every time you remembered that, to him, you were just his teammate. Maybe a friend, even a sort of younger sister, but nothing more. Charles had a natural way of making you feel comfortable but also reminding you of where you stood in his life.

One night in Suzuka, after a long day of training and meetings, you both ended up in the small lounge of Ferrari's motorhome. You had gone to get a cup of tea to clear your mind and found him sitting on the couch, looking at something on his phone. He looked up when he saw you and smiled.

“Long day?” he asked, setting his phone aside.

“As always,” you replied, pouring hot water into your cup. Then you turned to him. “And you? I haven’t seen you since the last meeting.”

Charles sighed and stretched. “I was trying to reply to some messages, but I don’t even know where to start. Family, friends, everyone wants to know how I’m doing all the time. It’s exhausting.”

You smiled, sitting in a chair across from him. “Must be tough being Charles Leclerc.”

He laughed. “Don’t believe it. You’re a Ferrari driver too. You must have your own endless list of messages.”

“Yeah, but the difference is that I’m not seen as the team’s big star. I only have to worry about my parents and a couple of close friends.”

He tilted his head, as if evaluating your words. “Don’t think we don’t notice. The whole team knows how dedicated you are. Maybe they don’t say it all the time, but they know how much you bring to the table.”

Your heart skipped a little. You hadn’t expected that kind of recognition from him. You tried to stay composed.

“That’s... good to hear. Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way, but thank you.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Charles looked at you with curiosity.

“And you? How do you handle it? Being here, under so much pressure, one of the few women in this sport... It can’t be easy.”

You lowered your gaze to your cup, letting your thoughts swirl.

“It’s not. But I don’t expect it to be. I grew up knowing I’d have to work twice as hard to get here. So, I do. Sometimes it’s frustrating, especially when it feels like no matter how much I try, things don’t change.”

“Are you talking about the team orders?”

You looked up quickly, surprised he mentioned it. He was watching you with that intensity of his, as if trying to unravel your thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a half smile. “I know. It’s not fair.”

“Then why don’t you say anything?” you asked, almost without thinking.

He seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Cause this sport isn’t fair. It never has been. You know that as well as I do.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

Charles nodded, as if he understood perfectly what you meant. Then, to your surprise, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Look, I know it doesn’t always seem like you’re valued, but believe me, you’re incredible. You’re fast, smart, and more hardworking than anyone in this paddock. You don’t need Ferrari to tell you that because you’re proving it every time you get in the car.”

His sincerity left you speechless. For a moment, the noise of the outside world disappeared, and all you felt was the warmth of his gaze and the weight of his words. You wanted to say something, but the lump in your throat stopped you.

Finally, he broke the silence with a smile that seemed to lighten the atmosphere.

“Besides, if you start beating me, I’ll have to work harder. And I don’t want that,” he joked.

You laughed, grateful that the moment had turned lighter.

“Don’t worry. You still have a bit of an advantage... for now.”

You both laughed, and the moment passed. But as you walked back to your room that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you had felt. No matter how much you tried to deny it, your feelings for Charles were there, silently growing. And the worst part was knowing that, to him, you were just a teammate, a friend, maybe even that younger sister he joked about in meetings.

But you wanted to be more than that. And you had no idea how to handles.

The conversation with Charles left you more affected than you wanted to admit. His words echoed in your mind like a constant refrain: “Your incredible,” he had said. Did he really mean it? Or was he just trying to motivate you, like an older brother would with a younger sister? You couldn’t shake the feeling that, while he valued you, he didn’t fully see you. Not as an equal, not as a true rival, and certainly not as anything more.

That, combined with the weight of the team orders and the constant feeling of being a shadow in Ferrari, began to wear you down in ways you couldn’t ignore. The following races only reinforced your frustration. In Austin, you were once again told to hold position behind Charles, even though you were faster. In Interlagos, you were excluded from a key strategy that could have landed you on the podium. Every time you received the order over the radio, you obeyed, because that was what was expected of you. The “good girl” who didn’t cause trouble. The obedient driver who always put the team above herself.

But inside, something was breaking.

It was in the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, the last race of the season, that you reached your limit. At the Yas Marina Circuit, the sun was sinking into the horizon, bathing the paddock in golden and orange hues as the tension filled the air. For Ferrari, this race was crucial: the team was still fighting to secure second place in the Constructors Championship, and every strategic decision was made with that goal in mind.

But for you, this race meant something else. After months of following orders, of being relegated to a supporting role, you knew this was your moment. There would be no next time. Ferrari had made it clear that their priority was Charles Leclerc. You’d heard the rumors that, regardless of the results, your seat was at risk. You had nothing left to lose.

You had qualified fourth, right behind Charles, while the Red Bulls occupied the front row. You knew you would have to play your cards smartly to have a chance, but you also knew you weren’t going to follow orders that hurt you again.

As you adjusted your gloves in the cockpit, you heard your engineer’s voice over the radio:

“Remember, the priority is to maintain positions and support Charles if necessary.”

You bit your lip to keep from responding. Instead, you simply said:

“Understood.”

But this time, you didn’t understand. You weren’t willing to sacrifice yourself again.

When the lights went out, your reaction was flawless. You held your position, avoiding an aggressive attack from a Mercedes. Charles was trying to keep pace with the Red Bulls, but it soon became clear he didn’t have enough speed to catch them.

By lap 15, you were right behind him. Your tires were in better condition, and you were clearly faster in the technical corners. You tried to put pressure on him, but the order came over the radio before you could attempt an overtake.

“Hold position. Repeat: hold position.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. This was the moment. You could obey, as always, or you could risk it all.

On lap 18, down the main straight, you moved out of Charles’ slipstream and went for the overtake. The maneuver was clean, an impeccable move that left the team speechless. The protests came immediately over the radio.

“What are you doing? Give the position back, now.”

But you ignored the orders. You didn’t respond. Your only answer was to push harder.

From the pit wall, the tension was palpable. You could imagine the strategists shouting, the engineers exchanging nervous looks. Charles tried to reclaim the position, but his worn tires didn’t allow him to get close enough. You focused on your pace, pushing to the limit in every corner.

By lap 40, the critical moment arrived. A safety car came out after a crash, and Ferrari called Charles in first to change tires. However, you ignored your order to pit on the next lap, staying out to maintain the strategic advantage. When the safety car period ended, you were in third place, with the Red Bulls ahead and Charles behind.

The final laps were a battle of pure instinct. Max and Checo fought for the victory while you defended your podium spot tooth and nail. Charles attempted an aggressive overtake on the penultimate lap, but you blocked him with a move that was clean yet firm.

The checkered flag waved, and you crossed the finish line in third place. You had achieved your first podium in Formula 1. Emotions overwhelmed you as you heard the commentators’ cheers and the fans’ applause. It was the moment you had dreamed of your entire career.

But the celebration was short-lived.

When you arrived at parc fermé, the faces in the Ferrari team were telling. Charles stepped out of his car and gave you a look you couldn’t decipher. There was no anger, but no joy either. You removed your helmet and walked toward the podium, feeling the mix of joy and tension around you.

The podium was a whirlwind of emotions. You allowed yourself to enjoy the moment: the champagne, the cheers, the feeling of proving what you were capable of. But when you returned to the motorhome, reality hit you like a punch.

The team principal was waiting for you in the meeting room, his expression cold as steel.

“What do you think you were doing out there?” he asked, his voice restrained but loaded with anger.

You looked him straight in the eye.

“I was racing to win.”

“You disobeyed direct team orders, jeopardizing our strategy and our relationship with Charles. This is unacceptable.”

“What’s unacceptable” you said firmly “is that I was never given a fair chance. Today, I proved that I can compete. That I deserve to be here.”

A tense silence followed. Finally, the team principal sighed, as if carrying a massive weight on his shoulders.

“This cannot continue. There is no place in Ferrari for someone who doesn’t follow the rules.”

And so, the decision was made. You were fired from Ferrari that very night.

As you packed your things, you felt a mix of emotions. Sadness and anger, yes. But also pride. You had shown that you weren’t just another cog in the system. You had fought for yourself, for what you believed in.

Before you left, Charles approached you.

“That was a great podium” he said with a small smile. “I knew you had it in you.”

“Thanks” you replied, feeling a pang of emotion.

“What are you going to do now?”

You looked at him, letting a defiant smile cross your face.

“I’m going to keep racing. Wherever, with whoever, but I’ll keep racing.”

And with that, you walked away.

After your departure from Ferrari, there was no time for regrets. You had barely stepped out of the motorhome at Yas Marina when the motorsport world began to react. News of your dismissal spread like wildfire, and the controversy dominated every headline: “The rebellion that shook Ferrari,” “A driver fired for disobedience but with talent to shine,” “Was Ferrari’s decision fair?”

At first, you tried to escape it all. You hid at home, turned off your phone, and avoided social media. But you soon realized the world wouldn’t leave you alone. The story had become too big, and to your surprise, the public was mostly on your side. In every interview, in every analysis by the experts, the same argument arose: Ferrari had wasted undeniable talent.

It didn't take long before the calls started coming in. First, they were from midfield teams: Aston Martin, Williams, even Alpine. They all saw you as a golden opportunity, a talent Ferrari had let slip away. But there was something about those offers that didn’t quite convince you. After fighting so hard to prove your worth, you didn’t want to take a step back in your career.

One day, while you were having breakfast at home, your agent arrived with an expression you had never seen before a mix of disbelief and excitement.

“Red Bull is interested in you.”

You almost dropped your coffee cup.

“Red Bull? The world champion team?”

“Yes, them. They called me this morning. They want to meet with you.”

The news was surreal. Red Bull, the most dominant team on the grid, the one that had won championships with Max Verstappen, was now interested in signing you.

A few days later, you traveled to Milton Keynes, where the team’s headquarters were located. From the moment you walked into the building, you felt the difference. Here, there was no solemn, almost monarchical air like at Ferrari; Red Bull was modern, fresh, with an energy that was palpable in the atmosphere.

You were greeted by Christian Horner and Helmut Marko. During the meeting, Horner got straight to the point.

“We’ve been watching you all season,” he said with a confident smile. “What you did in Abu Dhabi was risky, but it showed you have a hunger for victory, and that’s what we’re looking for in a driver.”

“We know Ferrari didn’t give you the opportunities you deserved,” Marko interjected in his characteristic serious tone. “You won’t have that problem here. We want you to compete at the highest level.”

The proposal was clear: you would be part of the Red Bull team as the second driver, alongside Max Verstappen. It wasn’t an easy seat. Verstappen was the undisputed champion, and competing alongside him meant facing one of the greatest in history. But it also meant a golden opportunity to prove you belonged in the elite.

“What do you say?” Horner asked, smiling expectantly.

You looked at your agent, who gave you a slight nod, as if to say it was your decision. You took a deep breath and then responded:

“I accept.”

The news of your signing with Red Bull was announced during the winter break, just before Christmas. The official statement included words from Horner praising your talent and fighting spirit, highlighting that you would be a key piece in maintaining the team’s dominance.

The public reaction was explosive. Social media was flooded with messages of support and surprise. Some criticized the decision, arguing that Verstappen didn’t need internal competition, while others celebrated it as a victory for a driver who had earned her place against all odds.

Even Charles Leclerc reacted in an interview:

“I’m happy for her. She’s a great driver and deserves this opportunity. Red Bull is an incredible team, and I’m sure she’ll do well.”

The first day at the Red Bull factory was completely different from what you had experienced at Ferrari. From the beginning, they treated you like part of the team. The engineers showed you the progress on the new car, and Max, though reserved, gave you a professional welcome.

“It’s not easy here,” he told you during lunch at the factory canteen, “but if you’re here, it’s because you have what it takes.”

The buzz reached its peak after the announcement of your signing with Red Bull. While the whole world debated your arrival at the most dominant team on the grid, you were only beginning to process what this new chapter in your life meant. However, something kept crossing your mind. At first, the excitement and thrill of the new opportunity kept you busy, but when things calmed down, one question arose strongly: What had happened to Checo?

Checo had been Max Verstappen’s teammate for the past few seasons, and although he hadn’t reached the Dutchman’s level, he had been a key pillar in the team’s success. You had seen how he fought on track, defending positions with a ferocity few could match. So why had they terminated his contract?

Rumors about Checo’s departure started surfacing even before your arrival was announced. Some said his results hadn’t been enough for Red Bull, especially compared to Max’s absolute dominance. Others suggested that the internal atmosphere in the team had deteriorated and that Checo was tired of living in the champion’s shadow.

However, there was no clear statement. Red Bull, true to its style, had handled the situation discreetly. Even during your first weeks with the team, no one directly mentioned Checo. The engineers, mechanics, strategists… everyone seemed focused on you and Max, as if the past had been erased in one fell swoop.

One day, while you were in the simulator at Milton Keynes, you ran into Horner. You had finished an intense testing session and were wiping off sweat when he approached.

“How are you feeling so far?” he asked in his usual relaxed tone.

“Good, I think I’m adapting quickly,” you replied, though deep down you knew you still had a long way to go to reach Max’s level.

Horner nodded, but you noticed something in his expression. As if he knew there was something else you wanted to ask. You decided to take the chance.

“Christian, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

You took a deep breath before speaking. “What happened with Checo?”

Horner looked at you for a moment, as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he sighed.

“Checo is an incredible driver and was fundamental to many of our successes. But the level of demand here is very high. This year, he didn’t meet the expectations we had set.”

“Was it just that?” you asked, doubtful.

“He felt he deserved more support, and I can’t blame him for that. But in the end, we decided it was best for both parties to go separate ways.”

You nodded, though Horner’s words didn’t resolve all your doubts. You had seen Checo give it his all on the track, and it was hard to believe that simply hadn’t been enough. But at the same time, you knew how ruthless this sport could be.

A few weeks later, while scrolling through the news on your phone, you finally found out about his future. Checo had signed with Aston Martin, a team that wasn’t at Red Bull’s level in terms of performance but offered him the opportunity to be the undisputed leader.

You looked at the photo of his announcement on social media: Checo in his new green and black suit, smiling in front of a car that would hardly compete with the leaders. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite decipher. Resignation? Or perhaps relief?

You caught yourself wondering how he must have felt being displaced. Although you hadn’t made the decision, your arrival at Red Bull had been the catalyst for his departure. For a moment, you were overwhelmed by a sense of guilt.

The preseason began, and with it came the tests in Bahrain. It was there that you saw Checo for the first time since the announcement. You were walking towards the Red Bull hospitality when you saw him coming out of the Aston Martin garage. You hesitated but finally decided to approach him.

“Checo,” you called out, trying to sound casual.

He turned and looked at you with a friendly smile.

“Hey! How’s it going?” he responded, as if nothing had happened.

“Good… I think,” you said, a little nervous. “I just wanted… well, I wanted to tell you that I really admire what you did at Red Bull. You’re incredibly talented, and I know it wasn’t easy.”

Checo looked at you for a moment, then slowly nodded.

“Thank you. That means a lot. But don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Aston is a new challenge, and I’m excited to lead a project.”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

“I know you’ll do amazing things.”

He smiled, and for an instant, you saw the determined and proud driver who had fought so hard on track.

“And so will you. You’ve got a great opportunity. Don’t waste it.”

You said goodbye with a handshake, feeling strangely at peace. You had feared there might be resentment, but Checo seemed to have found his path.

After the first day's testing and your conversation with Checo, you were in the circuit's canteen, reviewing your engineer's notes. It was a quiet night; most of the drivers had already retired to rest. However, when you looked up, you saw Charles walk in. He hesitated for a moment upon seeing you but then walked over to your table with his hands in his pockets.

“Can I sit?,” he asked, his tone more neutral than usual.

You nodded, surprised.

“Sure.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Charles fiddled with a napkin between his fingers while you waited, unsure of what to say. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Red Bull isn't an easy team.”

“I know,” you replied, keeping your gaze fixed on him.

Charles nodded slowly, as if carefully choosing his words.

“Max is... complicated. Not because he's a bad person, but you know how he is. He's the favorite, the team leader. And Red Bull isn't exactly forgiving with those who don't meet their expectations.”

“Are you worried I can't handle the pressure?” you asked, feeling a slight sting to your pride.

“That's not it” he replied quickly, his tone softening. “I know you can handle the pressure. What worries me is that you'll have to deal with an environment where you won't always be supported, where everything you do will be scrutinized to the smallest detail.”

You looked at him in silence. There was something about his words, the sincerity of his tone, that disarmed you. Charles, always so focused on his own career, was taking the time to warn you about the challenges you would face.

“It’s not so different from what I experienced at Ferrari, don’t you think?,” you finally responded, trying to sound confident.

Charles let out a faint smile, but he didn’t seem convinced.

“Maybe. But at Ferrari, there was... balance. Even when it didn’t seem like it, you knew there were people who believed in you, even if they didn’t say it outright. Red Bull is different. They’re all or nothing. And Max... he doesn’t share easily.”

You knew he was right. From day one, you’d felt Verstappen’s presence like a shadow that dominated everything. But it didn’t scare you.

“If there’s one thing I learned at Ferrari, Charles, it’s that I don’t need everyone to believe in me. I just need to believe in myself.”

He looked at you intently for a few seconds, as if evaluating every word. Finally, he nodded, though his eyes reflected something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Just don’t lose yourself in all this, okay?.”

“Lose myself?.”

“Yeah. In the politics, the pressure, the constant need to prove something. Don’t let that define who you are.”

When Charles stood to leave, he left his crumpled napkin on the table. For a moment, you wanted to say something, maybe thank him, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you simply watched him walk away.

There was something unusual about that conversation. Charles had always been direct and competitive, but this time, there seemed to be something more. Genuine concern, perhaps even something deeper he wasn’t ready to express.

You stayed in the canteen for a while, thinking about his words. You knew he was right in many ways. But you wouldn’t dwell on that now.

Despite Charles’ warnings and your own fears about joining Red Bull, things started off better than you expected. Max Verstappen, the man who dominated the grid with a mix of raw talent and relentless confidence, surprised you from the very beginning.

You had assumed he’d greet you with reluctance or, at least, a certain coldness. After all, you were taking the seat that had belonged to Pérez. However, from the first day, Max was open and genuinely friendly.

That day, you had arrived early, nerves on edge. You were reviewing your notes in a meeting room when Max walked in with his characteristic relaxed stride.

“Hi, how are you?,” he said, smiling as he took a seat across from you.

“Good, thanks” you replied, feeling a bit awkward about the formality of the moment. “And you?.”

“Surviving the winter. I always miss being on the track.”

His tone was light, almost casual, and it helped you relax a bit. You briefly talked about the upcoming season, the regulation changes, and the expectations for the new car. Then, Max abruptly changed the topic.

“I know this might be tough for you. Joining a team like this isn’t easy, especially when everyone expects you to measure up to me.”

You looked at him, surprised by his candor.

“I suppose so, but I’m not here to measure myself against anyone. I’m here to do the best I can.”

Max nodded, clearly satisfied with your response.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Don’t worry about me. I get along with everyone who works hard and is honest. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve got both.”

His words left you slightly taken aback. You had expected a more distant relationship, but it seemed Max had no intention of turning this into an uncomfortable rivalry.

As preseason progressed, you started working more closely with him and the team’s engineers. Max proved to be surprisingly collaborative, sharing information and advice without hesitation. There was something refreshing about his attitude: you didn’t feel like he was constantly evaluating you or trying to assert dominance.

“If the car feels weird in fast corners, try adjusting the differential. Sometimes it gives a more stable feeling,” he told you during a simulator session while you were reviewing your laps.

You tried it, and to your surprise, it worked.

“Thanks” you said, smiling.

“No problem. Just don’t thank me too much if you end up beating me on track,” he replied with a light laugh.

Many journalists speculated whether Max would try to "psychologically crush" you or if Red Bull would relegate you to the role of second driver. However, within the team, the reality was completely different.

Max seemed to understand that, while you were new to the team, you weren’t a rookie. You had proven your worth at Ferrari and didn’t need to show anyone you belonged at this level.

“The key here is to enjoy the process,” he told you one day while waiting in the paddock during testing. “Everyone’s going to criticize you, no matter what you do. So, just do it your way.”

His words resonated with you. They weren’t condescending advice or a lesson from an experienced driver to a younger one; they were the words of someone who understood exactly what you were facing.

Over time, you discovered a side of Max that few saw. Off the track, he wasn’t the aggressive and dominant driver everyone knew. He was relaxed, even humorous, and had a genuine passion for racing.

One day, while waiting for a meeting, he asked you:

“What made you fall in love with racing?.”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t common for someone in this world to talk about emotions so directly.

“I guess the freedom,” you answered after thinking for a moment. “The feeling that, when you’re in the car, everything depends on you.”

Max nodded, smiling slightly.

“Exactly. That’s the best part. Sometimes I think the teams, the sponsors, everyone forgets that. But in the end, we’re here because we love racing.”

It was at that moment that you understood something crucial: Max didn’t see you as a threat or an intruder. He saw you as someone who shared his love for the sport, someone who understood what it meant to live to compete.

When the first Grand Prix in Bahrain arrived, your relationship was solid. Max was still the undisputed leader of the team, but he had also become someone you could rely on. During pre-race meetings, he encouraged you more than once.

“Remember, the first race is always the hardest,” he told you as you walked towards your cars. “But once you start, everything else will feel easier.”

You nodded, grateful for his support.

The race itself was intense, but the atmosphere within the team was surprisingly positive. You finished in fourth place, right behind Max, who won the race in his dominant style. When you returned to the garage, he was the first to congratulate you.

“Good job. Not bad for your first race with us.”

His smile was genuine, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Despite your initial doubts, your relationship with Max turned out to be much easier and more rewarding than you had expected. You knew things could change quickly in this sport, but for now, you were enjoying the process.

Although you had the skill and determination needed, you knew that joining such a dominant team meant adapting to a completely new level of demands. Max, with his experience and ability to squeeze every fraction of a second out of the car, quickly became someone you admired more than you anticipated.

What you hadn't expected was for Max, the four time world champion, to take on the role of mentor with you. From the beginning, he seemed determined to share everything he knew, not just about the car but about how to survive and thrive in such a competitive team.

Max didn’t just give you technical advice; he also taught you how to navigate team dynamics and the stress of the season. During a testing session, he took the time to show you how to better analyze the car's telemetry.

“When you're looking for time, don’t obsess over what others are doing. Compare your laps against yourself. Sometimes, the small mistakes aren’t in the big corners but in the transitions, in how you shift the car's weight.”

You sat next to him as you analyzed a lap together. Max pointed out details you hadn’t even noticed, like slight steering corrections or changes in throttle pressure.

“You have good instincts,” he said, pointing to a particularly fast sector you had achieved. “But with a bit more analysis, you can be even more precise.”

His words motivated you. It wasn’t common for Max to give compliments, and whenever he did, you knew they were sincere.

More Than Technique: The Mentality

One afternoon, after an intense day of testing in Barcelona, Max invited you to his motorhome to chat. There was a relaxed atmosphere as you both shared a cup of coffee.

“Let me tell you something that took me a long time to learn,” he began, with an unusual seriousness. “Formula 1 isn’t just won on the track. Half the battles are up here,”

he said, tapping his head. “If you let criticism or politics affect you, you won’t have the clarity you need when it matters.”

“And how do you make sure it doesn’t affect you?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I don’t always succeed,” he admitted. “But I’ve learned to focus on what I can control. It doesn’t matter if someone says you’re not good enough, or if the team doesn’t seem to support you. In the end, the only judgment that matters is your own.”

Those words stayed with you. Max wasn’t just a master at driving; he had also developed a mental strength that made him practically unbeatable.

Max helped you understand the trickiest circuits, manage tires in changing conditions, and anticipate other teams strategies. Whenever you had a question, he was there, willing to explain, no matter how busy he was.

In Japan, during a strategy meeting, one of the engineers suggested a setup you weren’t entirely convinced about. Before you could say anything, Max intervened.

“I think she’s right,” he said, gesturing towards you. “With that setup, the car will be more unpredictable in fast corners. Let her try what she suggests.”

It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot to you. Max wasn’t just helping you improve as a driver; he was also teaching you how to make yourself heard in an environment where you had often been silenced.

The mutual respect between you grew with each race. While Max remained the undisputed leader of the team, he never made you feel inferior. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy watching you progress.

After a Grand Prix in Japan, where you achieved your first podium with Red Bull, Max was one of the first to congratulate you.

“I knew you’d do it,” he said, patting you on the shoulder as you walked up to the podium.

In that moment, you understood that his support wasn’t just professional. Max genuinely wanted you to succeed, not because it benefited the team, but because he recognized your talent and believed in you.

Your progress within the team was evident: you had earned podiums, improved your lap times, and, most importantly, found your place within the team hierarchy. Max had become more than a teammate; he was a key figure in your professional and personal life. As the months went by, something else began to grow between you, something you both knew but neither dared to acknowledge.

The bond you shared was solid, forged on the track but also in those moments away from it. The long talks after races, lunches with the engineers, jokes, and knowing glances it felt natural, almost inevitable, to feel so comfortable around each other. Max had taught you so much, not just about driving a Formula 1 car, but about handling the pressures of life in the paddock. He had shown you his vulnerabilities, sharing stories of his career, frustrations, and fears, as only someone close would do.

But that closeness began to blur the lines between professional and personal. And you started to realize that the emotions you felt for him were more complicated than you had anticipated even more than they had ever been with Charles.

It was in Monza, after one of the most intense races of the season. The track was wet, making the race even more challenging. Both of you had fought to the end, and while Max won, you finished an impressive second. On the podium, the smiles were genuine, but there was a tension in the air, something neither of you could deny.

After the race, Max approached you to congratulate you. When he hugged you, it felt different this time. There was a palpable energy, something neither of you could ignore. A lingering touch, a soft and almost imperceptible whisper that made time stop for a moment.

“You were amazing today,” he said, his face just inches from yours.

The eye contact between you was intense, as if you were seeing something in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before. Suddenly, you became acutely aware of his closeness, the warmth of his body, the softness of his voice, the way his hands rested on your shoulders differently than before. Something in his demeanor had changed.

Max was the first to pull away, as if he had felt the same unease you had.

“Let’s celebrate,” he said quickly, smiling, but his tone sounded slightly strained.

You looked at him, but for a moment, the words caught in your throat. You knew what had just happened, and you knew Max did too. Yet neither of you said anything.

The celebration that night was lively, full of laughter and joy, but the atmosphere between the two of you remained marked by that unresolved tension. You were happy with the result, but there was something else on your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about that hug, the way Max had looked at you, the closeness that had felt so different from any other interaction you’d had with him.

As the night ended and you returned to your room, doubts began to creep in. What did it all mean? You had worked so hard to be in this position, to be part of such a prestigious team, and now, it seemed like something was threatening to destabilize it all.

The next day, Max didn’t come down for breakfast as he usually did. His room was empty when you passed by his door. You decided to wait until the afternoon to talk to him, but when you found him on the track, the conversation was distant. He wasn’t rude, but there was something about his posture that told you he was also trying to process what had happened.

"Everything okay?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

Max raised an eyebrow, as if considering whether to answer or not.

"Yeah, sure. I just... felt a bit tired this morning." He shrugged. "But everything’s fine."

You knew it wasn’t just tiredness that had caused his silence. There was a lingering discomfort between you two. Something you couldn’t easily shake off.

By nightfall, the two of you were sitting on the hotel terrace, looking out at the sea. The cool breeze from the Italian coast made everything feel calmer, but the atmosphere between you was far from it. Max was silent, and so were you. Finally, he broke the silence with a phrase that felt much heavier than it seemed on the surface.

"You know, things get really complicated when you start mixing emotions with work."

You looked at him, surprised by the frankness of his words. You knew exactly what he was referring to, but you also knew it was a conversation neither of you wanted to have.

"I know," you replied in a low tone. "But it’s not that easy to control what you feel, is it?"

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair, something he often did when he was uncomfortable.

"No, it’s not." He was silent for a moment. "But there are lines we can’t cross, especially in this team. You know that I... I have Kelly."

That mention of Kelly hit like a bucket of cold water. Although you knew Max was in a steady relationship, you had never thought it would affect you so much. Acknowledging that reality, that he was committed to someone else, left you feeling a mix of guilt and confusion.

"I understand," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

But inside, you questioned whether you really did. How could you control something that felt so natural, so undeniable between the two of you? The attraction, the chemistry, that connection that had grown over time. You knew Max felt it too, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

After that conversation, it was clear that neither you nor Max were willing to cross a line that could cost you everything: your careers, your mutual respect, and the team’s stability. However, the attraction between you didn’t go away. If anything, the tension became more palpable. It was a constant game of restraint, a delicate balance between what was right and what wasn’t.

In public, everything seemed normal. Both of you maintained impeccable professionalism, working together as the team Red Bull needed. Max continued helping you as a mentor, and you kept learning from him, impressing the team and fans alike with your progress. But behind closed doors, things were very different.

One day at the Milton Keynes factory, during a simulator session, Max entered the room while you were finishing a run. When you stepped out of the simulator, he was reviewing your data, as he often did. His expression was calm, almost indifferent, but the way his eyes followed you as you approached the monitor said otherwise.

"You’re improving in the slow sectors," he said, not taking his eyes off the screen. "But you’re still losing a bit of time in the fast corners."

"Any advice?" you asked, trying to keep a casual tone.

Max looked at you for a moment, and that look lasted a second longer than it should have. It was enough to feel that spark of electricity between you, the one you both tried to ignore.

"Yeah, sure," he finally replied, turning to the screen to point something out. "Here, in Turn 5, you need to be more aggressive with the throttle. Don’t be afraid to use the full width of the kerb."

You leaned toward him to get a better view of the screen, and for a moment, you were too close. You could feel his breath, and the tension in the air was almost tangible. He was the first to step back, realizing that such closeness only complicated things further.

"Try it on the next run," he said quickly, breaking the moment.

Over the course of the races, that tension only grew. There were lingering glances during strategy meetings, accidental brushes in the garage, and prolonged silences that made it even clearer what you were both thinking. Max remained just as committed to helping you progress, but his behavior was sometimes contradictory. There were days when he seemed to deliberately keep his distance, and others when his closeness was unmistakable.

One night, after a team dinner in Monaco, you both ended up in the hotel elevator. It was late, and most of the staff had already gone to rest. The silence between you was almost deafening as the elevator ascended slowly. You could feel his presence, every movement he made, even if he didn’t look at you directly.

"Good job today," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Thanks. You did well too. As always."

Max gave a small, sideways smile but said nothing more. When the elevator stopped on your floor, you both hesitated for a moment. You felt like he wanted to say something, something he was struggling to contain, but in the end, he simply nodded and let you exit first.

What surprised you was that, even though you tried to keep your distance, it seemed like Max was the one closest to crossing the line. There were moments when you caught him watching you from across the garage, with an expression that made you wonder what he was thinking. And then, in meetings, he always found a way to be by your side, even when it wasn’t necessary.

One day, during a technical meeting in Zandvoort, Max made a comment that, although it seemed innocent, had an undertone you couldn’t ignore.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if you do this on purpose," he said with a slight smile, pointing out a minor mistake in your data.

"Do what?" you asked, confused.

"Be so... persistent. It’s like you want everyone to notice you."

You knew he was talking about your determination on track, but something in his tone made you think he meant something more. You held his gaze, trying to decipher him, but before you could respond, someone else entered the room, cutting the moment short.

Despite everything, neither of you mentioned what was really happening. Both of you were aware that crossing that line could destroy everything you’d built. Max had a stable relationship with Kelly, and you were in a delicate position as the team’s rising star. There was too much at stake, and neither of you was willing to risk it.

Here's what I'm consumed with today. How much Carlos lost absolutely everything when he and TK broke up because everything good in his life is connected in some way to TK. He temporarily lost the person he loves but he lost so much more than that. Carlos has to live alone in the place that was supposed to be their home. He found a second father in Owen, who was there for him before his own father was, and that would've been gone after TK was gone. Carlos has a better relationship with his parents because of TK. He needed to hear them both say they're proud of him so much and he needed it for years and he finally got it from them both in connection to something that happened with TK, and now he has to distance himself from them because he has to lie to them about TK breaking up with him. Carlos probably liked his job better because there was always the chance he might run into TK, and now that's become something he dreads. All of his friends were TK's friends first, and Nancy keeps inviting him to hang with them because she's kind but how long realistically would she have kept asking when she knew he was gonna say no? Carlos needed community so badly and he got it because of TK and now that's gone. He gets Grace as a friend because of TK. He gets Paul, another queer person, as a friend because of TK. He gets to indulge in his love of cooking and feeding people because of TK, he would have started to resent cooking after TK was gone because there was no one for him to cook for. Literally everything good Carlos had in his life was connected in some way to TK and it's just all gone after they break up and I get so damn heartbroken thinking about how truly alone this soft man was.

Brake Balance

Charles Leclerc x mafiosa!Reader

Summary: something about the brake issues that Charles had to deal with in Bahrain just seems off … so you take matters into your own hands while your boyfriend is none the wiser

Warnings: depictions of violence and minor-character murder

You make your way through the paddock of the Bahrain International Circuit, weaving between team members and mechanics as they go about their pre-race routines. The energy in the air is electric, everyone buzzing with anticipation for the first race of the season later tonight.

You flash your paddock pass at security and head into the Ferrari garage, eyes scanning the organized chaos for the familiar mop of brown hair.

There he is, sitting in his red race suit that matches the iconic color of the Ferrari he drives, focused intently as his mechanics make some last minute adjustments. You walk up behind Charles and place your hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” You say playfully.

Charles reaches up and removes your hands, a smile breaking across his face as he turns in his seat. “Ah, mon cœur! My favorite surprise.”

You lean down and kiss him softly. “How are things looking for today?”

“Good, good,” he nods. “The team had to change the left front brake duct exit deflector earlier, just as a precaution. But I’m feeling optimistic, the car has been solid all weekend. I think I might even be able to challenge Max for the win if everything goes to plan.”

His confidence makes you smile. Charles has been working so hard, both physically and mentally, to start this season strong. You know a win today would mean the world to him.

“I’ll be cheering the loudest when I see you on that top step today,” you say.

Charles grins. “We’ll see. Still have a race to get through first.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss and head to the back of the garage so you’re out of the way. The mechanics are in full focus mode now, choreographing their dance around Charles’ car with practiced precision.

Charles goes through his usual pre-race routine — sips of water, reviewing data on the screens, and loosening up his muscles. He’s the picture of calm, but you know him well enough to see the coiled adrenaline thrumming just under the surface, ready to be unleashed once he settles into the cockpit.

The time comes to head out to the grid. Charles pauses before he puts his helmet on, meeting your gaze. You close the distance between you and cup his face in your hands, kissing his lips sweetly. Then you take the helmet from him and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips over the smooth surface where his would be.

“Be safe out there,” you say softly.

He nods, face disappearing behind the tinted visor, and climbs into the Ferrari. You watch as the car pulls away, weaving between other vehicles making their way to the starting grid. With a deep breath, you head deeper into the garage and take a seat next to Charles’ performance coach, Andrea. He hands you a headset so you can listen to Charles’ radio during the race.

“Let’s hope for a good one today,” Andrea says.

You nod, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fit the headset over your ears. On the monitors, you see Charles lining up on the grid in P2 after the formation lap, Max Verstappen’s Red Bull beside him on the front row in P1. The lights go out and the cars leap forward, engines roaring to life. Charles gets a good start, but Max keeps the lead through the first few turns.

The pack of cars higher up on the starting grid stays bunched up through the first few turns, but then you notice Charles starting to fall back little by little. His lap time slows as Max opens up a gap in front.

“The car doesn’t feel right, something with the front end,” Charles says. Your brow furrows in concern.

Only a lap later, George Russell in the Mercedes overtakes Charles on turn 4. Then Perez in the other Red Bull breezes past not long after.

“Come on Charles, stay focused,” you murmur under your breath. But things only seem to be getting worse. Carlos battles with Charles and eventually gets by, which frustrates you to no end. Charles fighting his own teammate for position is the last thing you want to see.

“Something felt very wrong with this set, the fronts were locking up like crazy,” Charles reports over the radio. Your heart sinks. Andrea shakes his head, equally perplexed.

The issues continue to persist. “What’s going on with my front left?” Charles asks, audible tension in his voice. “I just cannot get out of front locking. Everywhere ...”

Xavi, his race engineer, replies calmly, “We have temperature imbalance, higher front left.”

“How much is the imbalance?” Charles asks.

“Around 100 degrees.”

You grimace. That kind of discrepancy could make the car undriveable. Sure enough, Charles continues to struggle. It’s clear he’s fighting with the car now rather than racing the drivers around him.

“My car is fully going to the right when I am braking. With this I cannot fight, it’s dangerous,” Charles says, frustration seeping into his tone. You chew your lip anxiously. The rational part of you wishes Charles would just retire the car before he gets himself hurt trying to wrestle with it. But you also know that’s never been in Charles’ nature — he’ll keep fighting until the very last lap, no matter what.

Lap after lap, Charles battles to keep the car under control. “I think we can forget about driving now. It’s pulling everywhere,” he finally concedes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’ll pull into the pits and call it a day. But no, your boyfriend is never one to simply give up. After the radio, through sheer force of will, Charles somehow overtakes George to reclaim P4. You can only imagine how hard he must be having to fight to keep the car in the track.

In the end, it’s a disappointing P4 for Charles while his teammate makes it on the podium in P3. As Carlos is lead to the cooldown room with Max and Checo, you watch Charles, frustration etched across his face as he tugs off his helmet and balaclava. He doesn’t even glance your way before the mechanics descend on him to start looking over the car.

Clearly the brake issues have cost him any chance at challenging for the win today. Most other drivers would have given up even trying to reclaim P4. But not your Charles. Never your Charles. Your heart aches for him.

Charles gets led away swiftly for the usual post-race weighing and interviews. You know from his body language that he’s utterly deflated by today’s results.

While the reporters pepper him with questions, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Enough is enough — something is clearly not right with Charles’ car and you want answers.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you contemplate who to reach out to. The last thing you want is for Charles to have to fight against his own machine again. A solution needs to be found immediately, and you know just the person who can help.

With a determined nod, you press call and lift the phone to your ear, ready to get to the bottom of these brake issues once and for all.

***

The phone only rings once before a gruff voice answers. “Boss?”

“Hello, Gianluca,” you say. “I need you to do something for me.”

You go on to explain in detail the brake issues Charles faced during the race, how the problems started right after they replaced the left front brake duct exit deflector.

“I don’t think it was just bad luck,” you say. “Something seems off about the whole situation. I want you to look into it, see if anyone on Charles’ side of the garage could have tampered with his car.”

Gianluca is quiet for a moment. “Sabotage, you think?”

“Possibly. I just … I can’t shake this feeling that someone meant for this to happen to Charles’ car. He truly thought he could at least try to challenge Max for the win, then suddenly it’s like he’s driving an entirely different machine. Too much of a coincidence for my liking.”

“I’ll look into it boss, don’t you worry,” Gianluca says. “I’ll go through the team with a fine tooth comb, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. If someone did intentionally compromise Charles’ car, I’ll find out who and how.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Gianluca. Let me know as soon as you learn anything. Charles can’t afford issues like this again.”

“You got it. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ends and you lean back against the garage wall, gaze fixed unseeingly out across the pit lane. Your mind turns over the events of the race, Charles’ baffled frustration over the radio. He’s worked too hard for too long to have valuable points stolen away by something like this. If there is sabotage afoot within the team, you’ll get to the bottom of it.

A few days later you’re back in your study after flying home from Bahrain. A knock at the door interrupts your work and you call for them to enter. Gianluca steps in, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.

“Boss,” he greets you. Wordlessly, he steps forward and places a thick manila folder on your desk. You flip it open, eyes scanning over photos, documents, even what looks like stills of CCTV footage. Gianluca remains silent, allowing you to take it all in.

“I went over every inch of security camera video from the Bahrain paddock and garage,” Gianluca finally says. “And I found something.”

He leans over your desk and flips to a page in the folder, tapping a finger on a freeze frame showing one of Charles’ mechanics.

“This is Tomaso, one of the brake technicians,” Gianluca explains. “I noticed him acting strange all race day. Fidgety. Nervous. He was trying to hide it but his body language gave it away.”

Your eyes narrow as you study the photo. There is a shifty, almost guilty look about the man as he glances over his shoulder.

“I watched him like a hawk after that,” Gianluca continues. “When the team went to change the brake duct exit deflector, that’s when I saw it happen.”

He flips to another page, this one showing screen captures of CCTV footage in the Ferrari garage a few hours before the race start. You can make out Tomaso slipping the replacement deflector into his pocket before taking out another piece and installing it in Charles’ car. Your blood turns cold.

“He tampered with the part,” Gianluca confirms grimly. “There’s no doubt in my mind he switched that deflector with a compromised one. Sabotage, just like you suspected.”

You sit back, shaking your head in disgusted disbelief. “Why? Why would he do this?”

Gianluca shrugs. “Hard to say for sure. Could be someone paid him off, wants to see Charles fail. But what I know for certain is that he meant to damage Charles’ car.”

You drum your fingers on your desk, thinking hard. This level of betrayal from someone Charles trusts, it’s unthinkable. An affront you won’t let stand.

“You’ve done excellent work, Gianluca,” you finally say, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this. I’ll handle it from here.”

Gianluca nods. “Of course, boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He turns and leaves your study, closing the door quietly behind him. You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled under your chin. Your expression is stone, but internally your thoughts roil with anger. Tomaso will pay for this, you’ll see to that.

Charles has enough challenges to face without sabotage from his own team. Your resolve hardens — you won’t stop until justice is served and he can race with full confidence again. The treachery ends now.

***

After Gianluca leaves, your mind turns over what to do about Tomaso. The team flew straight from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to prepare for the next race, so he’s out of your reach for now. Still, you won’t let him slip away that easily. You pick up your phone and call a trusted associate, instructing him to organize a surveillance team to keep constant eyes on Tomaso until you arrive in Jeddah yourself.

The days crawl by painfully slow as you wait to confront the saboteur. You resist the urge to call Fred Vasseur and have Tomaso removed from the team immediately — better to handle this yourself. Finally, it’s time to fly out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Upon landing, your associate meets you at the airport.

“We have eyes on the target,” he reports. “He’s currently at the hotel bar, quite intoxicated.”

You nod curtly. “Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”

You’re led to the hotel and pointed towards the bar. Sure enough, there’s Tomaso, stumbling drunkenly out the door into the night. Now is your chance. You follow him down the street, waiting until he turns into a shadowy alley to make your move. In a flash you have him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall.

“What the hell, let me go!” Tomaso slurs, trying to shove you off. But drinking has made him clumsy and weak.

“I don’t think so, Tomaso,” you reply coldly. “We need to have a little chat.”

His eyes widen in fear and confusion. You press on before he can respond.

“Let’s see, Tomaso Barbieri, born May 5th, 1992 in Turin. Moved to Maranello in 2021 to begin work as a mechanic with Scuderia Ferrari. Parents Lucia and Giacomo Barbieri, both schoolteachers. Sister Cecilia studying abroad in London.”

As you rattle off details about his personal life, Tomaso’s eyes grow wider and wider.

“What the hell, how do you know all that?” He stammers. “Who are you? Does Charles know the ugly truth about his girlfriend?”

You fix him with an icy stare. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, Tomaso. A mechanic for Ferrari … and apparently a master of espionage and sabotage in your spare time.”

Tomaso’s eyes dart wildly, still trying to make sense of the situation in his inebriated state. He attempts an unconvincing laugh.

“What are you talking about man? Sabotage? I think you’ve had too much to drink ...”

Your response is to slam him hard against the wall, causing him to grunt in pain. You lean in close, anger simmering in your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Tomaso. I know what you did in Bahrain, switching out the brake duct deflector to sabotage Charles’ car. Did you think you could get away with it? That there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Up close, you can see the color drain from his face, eyes wide with fear. He tries to retain some composure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats weakly. “I would never sabotage Charles’ car, I want him to win ...”

You slam him against the wall again, cutting off his lies.

“I said, enough bullshit!” you snarl. “We have you on video. We saw everything. We know you pocketed the real deflector and installed a defective one instead.”

He is trembling now, any hint of drunkenness replaced by sobering fear.

“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’ll do anything, just please let me go. I made a mistake ...”

You shake your head in disgust. “A mistake? You betrayed Charles’ trust and tried to ruin his race out of what? Jealousy? Greed?”

Tomaso says nothing, eyes downcast in shame. You take a breath and continue in a low, menacing tone.

“Here are your options. One: you go directly to Vasseur first thing in the morning and resign from Ferrari immediately. You will leave the team and ensure you are never so much as in the same country as Charles again. Two: I deal with you myself, in a much less pleasant manner. The choice is yours, Tomaso. What’s it going to be?”

He meets your steely gaze again, jaw clenched. “I can’t just quit,” he says hoarsely. “My job is my life. You might as well just kill me.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “I was afraid you’d say that. Very well.”

In one swift motion you draw your gun from its concealed holster and press the barrel firmly under Tomaso’s chin. He recoils in terror, plastered back against the wall.

“Last chance,” you say calmly. “Walk away from Ferrari and never look back, or your days end tonight in this alley.”

Sweat drips down his brow as the gun digs harder into his throat. His eyes are saucers of fear, flitting between your steely gaze and the weapon poised to end his life.

“Well?” You ask after a long silence. “What’s it going to be?”

Tomaso swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the gun barrel. When he speaks, his voice is a terrified croak.

“I … I won’t quit. I can’t.” He closes his eyes in resignation, awaiting his fate.

You click your tongue in disappointment. “That’s unfortunate. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

Your finger tightens almost imperceptibly on the trigger …

“Wait, wait!” Tomaso cries out, hands raised in desperation. “I’ll do it, I’ll quit! Just please, don’t hurt me!”

You pause, gun still aimed steadily at his throat. “And why should I believe you now?”

He swallows hard, eyes brimming with tears. “I swear, I’ll resign first thing tomorrow. You’ll never see me near the team again. Just let me go, I’m begging you!”

You consider him coldly for a moment before lowering the gun. Tomaso sags back against the wall in relief. But you’re not done with him yet.

“Who paid you?” You demand. “Who put you up to sabotaging Charles’ car?”

The blood drains from his face again. “I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me, and my family ...”

In a flash the gun is back at his throat, your grip like iron on his shirt collar.

“I assure you, I can do much worse than they ever could,” you say menacingly. “Now give me a name, or you can say goodbye.”

Tomaso shakes uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. You can see the internal struggle, debating which is the lesser evil — defying you or those he conspired with. Finally, he slumps in defeat and leans in close, voice barely a whisper.

“It was ...”

He utters a name directly into your ear. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing again. You release Tomaso and take a step back, processing this new information.

“I see,” you say slowly. You nod over your shoulder and two of your associates emerge from the shadows.

“Get him out of my sight,” you order. They grab Tomaso roughly by the arms. He sags between them, the fight gone out of him completely. You fix him with an icy stare.

“My men will escort you to the airport,” you inform him. “You will be on the first flight out of this hemisphere. And you are never to go near Ferrari or Charles again — don’t even think about trying to contact the team to explain yourself. As far as they will be concerned, you simply resigned. Am I clear?”

Tomaso nods wordlessly, defeated. The men begin dragging him away towards a waiting black SUV.

“Oh, and Tomaso?” You call after him. He glances back warily. “If I ever see or hear of you so much as setting foot in a paddock again, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll simply disappear. Permanently.”

The color drains from his face one final time. Then he is shoved into the back of the SUV, the door slamming shut behind him. You watch impassively as the vehicle drives off into the night, carrying the saboteur away for good.

Or so he thinks.

Unbeknownst to Tomaso, you have contacts everywhere, including at his destination. The second he steps off the plane, thinking he’s escaped your wrath, your local associates will be waiting. And his life will be ended swiftly and permanently, as promised. You don't make idle threats after all.

Betrayal of this magnitude must be punished, no matter how far Tomaso runs. The message will be clear — cross you, and nowhere on Earth will be safe. You've given the order, and your associates are nothing if not ruthlessly efficient. By the time the sun rises, there will be one less threat to Charles’ success. The sabotage ends here and now. You'll see to that personally, no matter the cost.

For a moment you simply stand alone in the dark alley, processing everything. This is bigger than you initially realized. Tomaso was clearly just a pawn, the sabotage orchestrated by someone higher up the chain — someone with enough power and influence to scare a man into risking his career and life.

Your jaw clenches as you think about Charles being targeted like this, not only being robbed of a deserved finish but also put in danger as collateral. Well, it ends now. The shadowy orchestrator thinks they can get away with playing games in the dark? They’re about to realize just how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Now that you have a name, you can start unraveling the web, tracing every thread back to find where it leads. And when you do find the spider at the center? You’ll make sure they can never endanger Charles again. For good.

Satisfied with this plan, you straighten your dress and exit the alley onto the brighter streets. Time to put your considerable resources to work. Phone records, financials, travel records — you’ll dig through it all, leave no stone unturned.

And you have a feeling the name Tomaso gave you is only the first thread. This goes deeper. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve dealt with far more dangerous criminal elements before. These shadow games don’t scare you. You’ll keep following the threads until you reach the source, uprooting the entire enterprise in the process.

By the time you reach your car, your phone is already buzzing with incoming calls and updates from your associates. They know the drill by now — when you give the word, they mobilize into action immediately, utilizing the full extent of your influence and power.

For you, they’ll tap every resource, call in every favor owed. Because you protect what’s yours at all costs. And Charles? He’s under your protection now, whether he knows it or not. So for his sake, you’re going to find the ones trying to undermine him, and you’re going to tear out the threat root and stem. Permanently.

Let them keep playing their games for now, oblivious to the axe hanging over their heads. They’ll find out soon enough that nobody crosses you and gets away with it. And when that time comes, no mercy will be shown. No loose ends left to unravel.

Time to remind them exactly why your reputation precedes you in certain circles, why your name is uttered only in hushed whispers. They’ll regret the day they dared threaten someone you care about. You’ll see to that personally.

With your jaw set in determination, you climb into the idling car. Time to go hunting.

***

Two days after dealing with Tomaso, you make your way through the Jeddah Corniche Circuit paddock towards the Ferrari motorhome.

Your stiletto heels click along the pavement and you glance down, frowning slightly at the flecks of blood still staining the pointed toes of your red soles. Such a shame about these Louboutins, you really love this pair. But a bit of blood is a small price to pay for protecting Charles, especially after personally dealing with the orchestrator who had been paying Tomaso off.

You had tracked them down and made sure they could never threaten Charles’ success again. Subtly, you crouch down and wipe at the stains, managing to remove the worst of it.

Satisfied, you straighten and continue on your way. The familiar bright red motorhome comes into view and you sweep inside, immediately spotting Charles standing with some team members. His face lights up when he sees you, excusing himself to rush over.

“Mon amour, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss seeing you race for anything,” you reply, pecking his lips sweetly.

Charles takes your hand, leading you to a quiet corner where you can talk. “I missed you so much while you were away,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re here now.”

You smile and stroke his cheek. “Me too, darling. But I’m here now and I’ll be cheering the loudest for you all race.”

Charles’ grin falters a bit. “It’s been a strange few days actually. Tomaso, one of my mechanics, just up and quit in the middle of the week. No explanation or anything.”

You school your features into a look of surprise. “Really? That’s so odd.”

Charles nods. “Very weird timing to just resign like that. But maybe it’s for the best if his heart wasn’t fully in it anymore.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” you agree. “The team is better off without any negativity.”

Before Charles can reply, Andrea enters the motorhome. “Charles, time for some quick physio before the race.”

Charles sighs but nods, giving you a swift kiss before following Andrea out. You watch him go fondly before making your way trackside to the Ferrari garage. The mechanics are in race mode, voices terse and movements precise as they make final adjustments on Charles’ car.

You stay back, letting them work, thoughts drifting back to everything you did to get to this point. A small price to pay to ensure Charles can race with a fair chance again.

Finally it’s time for Charles to get in the car. You approach as he’s putting on his helmet and balaclava, stealing a tender kiss that he returns happily. Then you lift the helmet and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips softly over the smooth surface where his lips would be. Your ritual.

“Be safe out there,” you murmur. Charles squeezes your hand, then lowers himself into the cockpit. You watch tensely as the car pulls away, the lights of the circuit glittering against the dark night sky.

In the garage you pace anxiously throughout the race, listening to the radio chatter. Again Charles qualified P2, behind Max Verstappen’s Red Bull. But this time, you have no sabotage to worry about. The Ferrari proves fast and consistent all race, not quite keeping pace with the Red Bull but allowing Charles to maintain P2 smoothly.

The SF-24 doesn’t have the speed to challenge Max, but there’s no issues, no sudden grip loss or components failing. Your shoulders finally uncoil with relief as Charles crosses the line to take P2, securing a podium finish.

The garage explodes into cheers and applause as Charles pulls into parc fermé. He’s beaming as he climbs from the car, pulling off his gloves and balaclava. You run over to the barriers and throw your arms around him ecstatically as soon as he nears.

“I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Charles hugs you back tightly.

“Thank you, mon cœur,” he says warmly. “It felt good to finally have a clean race again.”

You just smile knowingly, heart bursting with joy at seeing Charles on the podium where he belongs. During the celebrations, he keeps meeting your gaze in the crowd, smiling and pointing down to you in the crowd of red. As he sprays champagne with Max and Checo, he looks utterly elated and at peace. No frustration or disappointment, just the satisfaction of a hard fought race with the result he deserved.

Afterwards, in the privacy of Charles’ room, he takes you into his arms again. “I don’t know what changed or why, but the car just felt right this weekend,” he says. “It makes me so optimistic for the rest of the season.”

You stroke his face gently. “You deserve it. All your hard work is paying off.” Inside, you allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. Charles doesn’t need to know just how much work went on behind the scenes to get here. He only needs to focus on driving his heart out, and securing the championships you know he’s destined for. The rest is simply details.

“Thank you again for being here,” Charles murmurs, pulling you close. “Having your support means everything to me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder contentedly. “Always, my love. I’ll be right by your side.” And you mean that with every fiber of your being. No matter what happens going forward, whoever tries to interfere or stand in Charles’ way, they’ll have to go through you first.

You won’t let anyone toy with Charles’ performance and safety again. The lesson has been sent — Charles is untouchable now. Dare to threaten the success that is his, and you’ll come for what’s theirs.

But Charles doesn’t need to carry that burden. He just needs to keep his head held high and drive his heart out. You’ll handle the rest. It’s the least you can do for the man you love more than life itself.

So as Charles holds you close, you silently promise to always shield him from the ugly underbelly that lurks beneath the glitz and glamour of Formula 1.

He gives so much of himself already in pursuit of greatness. Let others vie for power and influence through dirty tricks and mind games. That’s not Charles’ way, which is why you’ll ensure he remains untainted. For him, you’d walk through fire without a second thought.

So really, what’s a little blood on your Louboutins in the grand scheme of things? A man like Charles Leclerc deserves that and so much more. And you’re going to give it to him, no matter the cost.

Let them keep playing their games in the shadows. Little do they know, you’ve already checkmated them all.

His Girl

Part 2

Summary: Lando loves his rich, girl boss, girl. Though he doesn't really know what she really does underneath. Until he does.

or

In which Lando finds out his girlfriend is not who she said she was.

Side note: I'm using names for reader, and spelling and grammar errors. This is fake, nothing is real. So don't send shit massages to me.

Warnings: Blood. Dead body. Guns.

Part One

Masterlist

2022

It had been two years since Bonnie and Lando met and started dating. In those two years, they had been so in love. Never felling like this with anyone else. Lando's family was so happy for them both seeing their love.

Lando had never questioned where she got her money as Bonnie had told him that her father was wealthy and left her with everything and the company.

He did question her about the bodyguards following her all the time, But Bonnie had just said that it had been like that since she was born as he father was a wealthy man.

He was in aww when he had first saw her two-story London home. It was set on an acreage and was huge. He had jockeying asked if she was in the mafia, what he didn't see was the color to drain from her face and her guards throw each other looks.

The first time Lando had ever been almost close to figuring it out was by accident. Something Bonnie had made saw never happened again. Because if she was ever going to protect anything in the world it would be Lando and their relationship.

It was an early morning in London. The sun not even rising yet. Lando had been staying with Bonnie for a bit in her home as they talked about buying an apartment or house together last night.

Bonnie was relucent, but she agreed it was the next step in their relationship. But she would be keeping her estate in London for business and travel.

Lando was so ecstatic for their move together. And they had celebrating, by having sex. Never a dull moment with Lando.

Bonnie woke as someone entermeted her room and shook her lightly. Lando's arm was around her waist and the other was under her head.

"Miss. Salvatore." A light voice whispered to her. Bonnie new that voice and the only person to ever wake her up would be her maid.

"Mary?" Bonnie asked confused as she sat up quickly, not to disturb Lando.

Her maid's face greeted her. "Someone's here to see you." She spoke her voice shaking lightly.

"Who? At this time?" She whispered to her maid as she carefully got out of bed and grabbed her robe from the floor. Lando rolled over to the other side quickly falling asleep.

"Mr. Lopez is here." Mary whispered terrified.

Bonnie froze from getting her slippers on and looked at Mary wide eye. Mr. Lopez was a rival mafia gang that had always had it out for her father and his operation. While her father dealed guns and money, Mr. Lopez dealed drugs. Something her father stayed away from.

"Get the men and stay here in case Lando wakes up." Bonnie order her maid as she bent down and lifted the rug from under bed and pulled her daggers from out of the floorboards.

Bonnie walked down the hall with her guards all around her. When she got to the grand staircase, she saw her other maids and she guested he was in the parlor room.

"Making yourself at home." Bonnie called as she walked in the room and saw him sitting on one of the black couches.

Mr. Lopez chuckled. "Why how are this fine morning, Bonnie." He smiled at her. But in a cruel way.

"It's Miss Salvatore to you." She snaped and crossed her arms and took a seat in front of him. Mr.' Lopez's back was facing the back where Bonnie's guards were. Ready to kill if needed. "What do you want that couldn't wait till the sunrise was up?" She asked annoyed.

A maid walked in the room with tea for Bonnie. She thanked her and faced the man. He raised his eyebrows. "No offerings for your guest?" He asked leaning back in the leather couch.

Bonnie shot him an annoyed look. "No." She bluntly told him as she added her sugar cubes to her tea. "Now get to it." She ordered.

"Your father dealed in guns and money but now that he's gone, don't think it's time you expanded." Mr. Lopex started as Bonnie listened closely.

"What are you proposing?"

"Drugs." He simply said. "You would be making more money than you do now." He smiled thinking money would get her to agree.

"No." She simply spoke as she crossed her legs.

Mr. Lopez frowned. "You didn't even think about it."

Bonnie shook her head. "I have. My father didn't like drugs and I don't like drugs." She told him. "If that's all you wanted to talk about, you can go now." She told him and leaned back in her seat with her cup of tea.

Mr. Lopez frowned at her and then smirked, "You don't want me to hurt Mr. Norris up in your bedroom, do you?" He taunted her.

Bonnie tensed. The maids and guards that were in the room tensed as well. They had seen firsthand how much Bonnie loved Lando. They knew what she would do to keep him safe.

"Are you threating me?" Bonnie asked as she put her tea down and narrowed her eyes at him.

"No, I'm threating your boyfriend." He smirked. "I want you to do drugs and split all your proferts with me."

"Or what?"

"Mr. Norris gets a rude awaking." Mr. Lopez smirked thinking he won. He leaned back in his seat as he watches Bonnie's face go from fear to blank.

"Do you know what my father always taught me, Mr. Lopez?" She asked as she stood up from her seat and out of the way. She moved to the fireplace martlet where photos of her and her father were sat.

"What?" He asked confused.

Bonnie smiled at a photo of her and her father. It was her sixth birthday. She turned to Mr. Lopez and smirked as her loyal guard got his silencer gun out of his jacked.

"He told me that you never enter a house without protection or backup. And you especially never threaten their family. And you Josphe Hunt Lopez have just made that mistake." She smirked and watched as he quickly shot up and turn around and a bullet was lodge in his head.

He fell back and dropped on her marble floors. Blood quickly falling out near his head. Bonnie looked at his dead body. "Never threaten someone's loved ones."

The maids quickly got to cleaning just as Marry come around the corner with a look in her eyes.

"Love?" Lando called. bonnie eyes widened and she skipped out of the parlor door and closed them behind her as Lando came down the staircase. His eyes lit up when he saw her. "There you are." He smiled.

Bonnie hugged him back when he hugged her. His head rested in her neck as he hummed. "What are you doing up?" She asked him and ran her hand through his hair.

"What are you doing up." He shot back teasingly. She shot him a grin and shook her head with a laugh.

"Business call." She answered with a smile. Trying to not sound nervous. Lando just hummed and Bonnie took him by the hand and started walking up the stairs. "Why don't we get back bed and try to get more sleep?" She suggested.

Lando hummed with a smile. "Yeah. I just saw you weren't up and wondered where you were." He spoke and shot her a small smile one she sent back.

"Sorry. Duty calls." She laughed lightly. When Lando's back was turned she shot a look at a maid, and she nodded before walking back into the parlor, to help clean the mess up.

Bonnie and Lando both walked back to their room as the maids and bodyguards cleaned up Mr. Lopez. It was something Bonnie didn't want to ever happen again in her home.

Maybe moving was good. Many people from her world didn't know where she lived but the rest that new where people that she trusted now. Her and her people getting rid of the people she didn't trust.

She wouldn't let anything happen to Lando. She wouldn't forgive herself.

Bonnie smiled at Lando as they both got back under the covers. Lando resting his head on her chest. "I love you." Lando told Bonnie as he was falling asleep by Bonnie's fingers running threw his hair.

Bonnie smiled and kissed the top of his head. "I love you, Lan." She whispered back. She felt Lando place a soft kiss on her chest and Bonnie listened to his breathing as he put back to sleep.

Bonnie would do anything for him. he was the best thing that ever happen to her. She hadn't loved much in her short life. But now that she had felt it, looked at it. She was never letting it go or letting anyone destroy what she had found.

Her parents were the only love she had ever seen growing up. Her father had loved her mother so much and it killed him when she died but he didn't turn out horrible like most dads, no he loved her so much. Did everything he could for her.

Her father always said that he didn't regret loving her mother, because he got to know what love was. And he wouldn't change that for that world. She wanted that. A love that will hurt you when it's over. Because then you know it was real.

"I would do anything for you." She whispered down to Lando who was asleep. She placed a light kiss to his cheek. "Nothing is ever going to happen to you on my watch. I'll make sure of it." She promises herself and asleep Lando.

Making promise you can't keep was always going to end badly. There was no dyeing that.

Part 1

Masterlist

Hope you liked it. Hopefully the next part won't be long.

Lando 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🎉🎉🍾🍾🍾🍾

Oscar like: 🤨🤨🤨~🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️~😒😒😒

“No, no, no! 𝕷𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔, I can’t let u do that”

"You're not breaking this one!"🏆

Fantasy Island (gr63)

↳ A/N This is arguably one of my most favourite things I have written and it's incredibly special to me. I hope you enjoy <3

↳ Inspired By: Fantasy Island (1978 series/2021 series)

↳ Summary: A tropical paradise where your greatest fantasies come to life, no strings attached. Upon your arrival to the sunny weathered beaches, in the cloud like king size bed, you find your greatest fantasy waiting for you.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Stranger(kind of?)!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 25.4k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, touches of magical realism, arguably infidelity but not really (because Fantasy Island is not 'reality'...or is it?), mentions of an unnamed girlfriend, oral sex (m and f receiving), spanking, leaving marks, dirty talk, praise, mirror on the ceiling, really steamy passionate romantic sex, public sex, shower sex, brief breeding kink, lotsss of "I love you", unprotected sex.

Through the small window of the plane, the picturesque tropical island was revealed, standing out from the crystal blue water with its sandy white beaches and lush green forests. It looked like a photoshopped sliver of paradise and as the biplane coasted down towards the water, you already felt the stresses start to ease from your shoulders. 

A weekend on Fantasy Island. The place rumoured to allow your largest fantasies to come true for a few days, no strings attached. It knew what you needed better than you knew it yourself, so you were told. Once you left the island, life would return to how it always was but, for now, your focus was on rejuvenation and getting your mind off of everything. 

With your suitcase in hand, you stepped out of the small plane and onto the wooden dock, feeling the warm tropical breeze ease your muscles and relax your body. You almost completely forgot why you craved to come there after only the first breath of salty sea air. The woman waiting for you at the end of the dock greeted you by name with a smile and a handshake, her airy white sundress rippling around her knees as you approached. 

“Welcome to Fantasy Island.” she said, holding out her arms as if to show you the island right then and there. 

You thanked her politely as you admired the bamboo beach huts and patted loungers just at the edge of the sand. You followed her to the red jeep that was parked a bit of a ways away from the dock and you sat in the passenger seat as she drove you farther into the island and towards the resort. She spoke to you about the island and how she had been gifted the job as operator from her father before her; it was a busy career to run the island and she lived alone to dedicate her life to it. 

The island and the resort were all free for you to roam and she offered no cautions about the jungle or safety in the ocean, explaining how nothing was dangerous there. It felt all a bit surreal to you but your mind was focused on the spa that must be awaiting you at the resort. After a long and agonizing week - not to mention months - you felt that you were overdue for some quiet relaxing rejuvenation. 

The host guided you into her open air office at the edge of the resort overlooking the main beach and sparkling waters. A golden retriever met you at the steps and you gave him a scratch behind the ear as you followed the personable young woman into her space. She gestured you into the seat on the opposite side of her desk before taking her own chair behind it.

“It seems you have had quite the tiring little while, is that so?” she asked, not wasting another minute on the small talk that had filled the drive over. 

You smiled politely, “Yeah, you could say that.”

“So tell me, what can the island do for you?” she folded her hands together on the top of her desk.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “I dunno really.”

“You must have come here with a purpose; this is Fantasy Island after all. What is your fantasy?”

Your heart seemed to beat harder in your chest and you glanced out towards the beach as if to buy yourself time. With a small breath, you finally spoke, “It’s silly to say it aloud.”

“Believe me, I have heard plenty of fantasies in my career here. Nothing will surprise me.”

You turned back to her, lingering on her understanding smile and kind eyes and you felt yourself drawn to open up to her, “I am in love.”

She nodded you on. 

“I am in love with a guy who will not love me back. Who cannot love me back. Who...hardly knows I exist on this planet.” you started. It was hard to talk about and to reflect on your reality and she let you have a moment to piece together your thoughts. “These last months, and these last weeks especially, have been filled with me trying to accept that he is dating someone else. It’s literally all over social media and it’s hard to avoid and hard to look at. Really, really hard...and...exhausting. I just want to have a weekend where I can shut everything out and not think about how much that fact hurts me.”

The host smiled at you and nodded slowly in understanding as if she already knew all of what you were going to tell her, “So your fantasy is to forget that your love is unrequited?” 

You sighed thankfully that she understood, “Yes, exactly.”

“Well Fantasy Island can certainly help you with that.” she assured you easily. 

“If this works, I owe you my sanity.” you said. 

The host smiled at you, “You will be pampered, relaxed, and rejuvenated by the end of your stay, I guarantee. You will feel like a whole new woman.” 

She directed you to your room across the resort and with final thank yous and welcomes, you started off down the wooden boardwalk to your suite. Your suitcase clacked along the boards beneath your feet as you took your time to locate room 215, looping around the centre courtyard that was filled with brightly coloured flowers and waving palm trees. Finally, you reached your room and turned the handle without the need for a key. The moment you opened the door and stepped foot over the threshold, a refreshing soft gust of cool air tumbled over you as if you crossed through a cloud.

Compared to the heat of the tropical island you were on, the slight breeze of air conditioning was relieving and you sighed contentedly and set your suitcase against the wall. The bamboo flooring cushioned your sandaled feet as you stepped farther into the room and the floor to ceiling windows billowed the sheer white curtains into the light painted space. The sun that filled the blue sky lightened the room perfectly and you rounded the corner from the small entryway to take in the three-sided beach side views of your bedroom…only to find someone already sitting on your bed. 

The white sheets were pulled tightly and cradled his body like the softest most irresistible cloud, matching the white fabric pants and half open button-up that he wore. He was staring out the open windows to the beach, his eyes just as perfect blue as the ocean with the slightest hints of green that pictures never did justice. He had one leg tucked up under him and the other hanging lazily off the end of the king size bed patiently.

Your breath froze in your chest when he finally turned his head to look at you from a few short metres away. His gaze sent shivers down your spine and you felt your heart squeeze in your chest in a feeling that you couldn’t place as yearning or anxiousness. A peaceful smile came to his soft lips and he lifted two filled champagne glasses from the small tray that rested with him on the soft bed. 

He held one out to you, “Come here, gorgeous. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You stayed frozen in place for a moment, almost dizzyingly, staring at him in disbelief. Was this real? The man you had only dreamt of for months now sitting right across from you, beckoning you over with a glass of expensive champagne and that swoon worthy smile. You reached carefully to pinch your thigh to test if this really was a dream, only to find bare skin under your hand instead of your floral skirt you had worn on the plane. You looked down with a gasp, more than stunned to find yourself in a striking blue lingerie set and topped with a thin white satin robe left open around your shoulders and down just past your waist. 

“Well? Don’t make me drink both of these on my own.” 

You looked back over to the young man still sat on your bed, his outstretched hand gently swirling the bubbling gold liquid around in its flute. He nodded you over and you took a few cautious steps across the room towards him and took the glass from his hand. When your fingers brushed his, you shivered, the warmth of his skin feeling so real and so addicting and as your heart hammered in your chest, you sat down on the end of the bed beside him. 

Your eyes stayed locked on his, still in near disbelief, and you reached out your free hand to brush over his cheek to make sure he was really truly there. When your palm caressed his face and he leaned into your touch sweetly, you let yourself breathe his name in awe, “George.” 

“Yeah, darling. Was your flight okay?” he asked softly, taking your hand from his cheek and kissed your knuckles. 

“Yeah.” you mumbled, fearing to blink as if he’d disappear from beside you in an instant. 

“Good.” he laced his fingers with yours and lifted his glass to his lips with his other hand to take a sip. 

You watched him quietly, mirroring his sip with your own glass, welcoming the fizz of the bubbling champagne that grazed your tongue and the warmth of his hand in yours on his lap. The sea air that breezed into the room ruffled his sandy brown hair and his gaze drifted past you to the beautiful beaches beyond the open windows. 

“George,” you spoke his name softly, hesitantly, still wondering how on earth he was sitting beside you at a tropical island resort, “do you know who I am?”

He tore his gaze from the beach view to your face again and he smiled at you, giving your hand a squeeze, “Of course. What kind of question is that? You’re my girl.” 

Your name fell from his lips like an irresistible melody, like the sweetest sound you had ever heard, and the way he smiled at you as he spoke it made your heart flutter. He took another sip of champagne and you let your eyes wander down his unbuttoned shirt that ruffled gently in the warm breeze through the open windows and the streaks of sunlight rose his light dusting of freckles over his nose and tops of his cheeks. 

“It’s breathtaking here.” George spoke calmly, his fingers still resting lazily in yours, “I’m just looking forward to a perfect weekend vacation with you.” 

“With me?” you couldn’t help but confirm. 

“Yeah.” George chuckled lightly, gently taking his hand from yours to reach for the small tray still resting on the bed and he lifted a chocolate covered strawberry from the dessert plate. He held it out to you with a smile and fed you a small bite as he answered your question, “No one else I would even think of, sweetheart. You’re my one and only after all. This weekend is just for us.” 

As you ate your bite of strawberry, he took the last bit for himself before setting the greenery back on the plate with the rest. You both sipped your drinks and you couldn’t help but reach out to touch him as you let the alcohol warm you, resting your hand against his chest to feel his heartbeat under your touch. 

“I love you.” you breathed ever so quietly, testing the waters with the eight letters you had been dying to confess. 

George raised his hand over yours and you could feel his heart race under your palm, staring into your eyes as he answered with an honest, “I love you too.” 

Your heart fluttered at his words and the smile that came to your lips only had him smiling back at you. He took his hand from yours to dust his finger across your lips and down your neck and along the collar of your white silk robe. 

“You look so beautiful today.”

Butterflies filled your stomach at his words and you stared back at him even if his eyes were on your chest. Having him simply looking at you was enough to make you blush. You replied easily, “So do you.” 

“I’ve missed you.” George whispered, tracing your collarbones gently before sliding up the side of your neck. His touch left goosebumps rising across your skin at his slightest touch. 

“I’ve missed you more than you know.” you admitted quietly. 

His eyes raised from his fingers to your eyes and then, as he smiled adoringly, dropped his gaze to your lips. His stare alone could make shivers tear down your spine in the most addicting way and his large hand slid over your jaw to cradle the side of your face. The anticipation was nearly nauseating as his thumb brushed over your cheek and his eyes didn’t waver from your lips even as he licked his own. You wanted to kiss him more than anything, to feel his perfectly soft sculpted lips on yours enough to make your knees weak, and you had tried to imagine it for months but never expected to be face to face with him like this. 

No words had to be spoken as you both leaned in and his hand on your face guided you to tilt your head slightly to the right and let his lips brush against yours. This first shared anticipatory breath was electrifying and, as his lips finally slotted with your own, the warmth of the tropical island air was nothing compared to the fire that burst in the depths of your stomach. You inhaled into it, savouring the taste of his lips on yours as his kiss froze motionlessly for a few seconds. When he leaned back from it and your lips parted with a soft smack, you couldn’t help but grab the front of his shirt and pull him back in for another kiss. You could feel him smile into it as your lips met again, sharing a few lingering kisses that tasted like expensive champagne from the glasses you each still held in your hand. 

Your heart raced in your chest as your hand slid into the back of his hair and you nipped gently on his bottom lip. He let a pleasant hum fall between you, tilting his head a little more to deepen your kiss and part your lips with his own. The champagne and strawberries were forgotten about as you quenched your cravings through his tongue and soft lips, letting him lead into each kiss that made your stomach flutter with desire. 

When a few more moments passed, he pulled back from you with one more tender kiss to your pouted lips and gave you a small smile as he took the champagne flute from your hand and set it back on the tray. Almost impatiently, you watched as he lifted the small tray from the sheets and leaned over to rest it safely on the bedside table, giving him a comfortable range of motion to lean in towards your lips again. You shared a few soft kisses before you both opened up to permit your tongues to join once more and you greedily held his face in your hands like he was your most prized possession. 

George held himself up with one hand against the mattress as his other rested gently against the side of your neck, although you were too hung up on the gentle flexing of his jaw that moved smoothly along with each passionate kiss. The soft smacks of his lips on yours was addicting and you slid your hands down his neck and along his exposed chest as your breathing started to fall in time with his. 

“Mm,” he pulled back ever so slightly and looked at you from under long lashes, “I love kissing you.” 

Your cheeks flushed pink just as he leaned in for more, capturing your bottom lip between his and then your top and then nudged his tongue into your mouth. You felt as light as air as you pushed your mouth on his harder and opened up to let his tongue nudge strongly against yours. You could taste the sweetness of the strawberries and the sharpness of the alcohol in his mouth and each breath you shared just made it more addicting. You couldn’t get enough of him. 

His hands traced the collar of your satin robe and you let him push it off your shoulders and to the bamboo flooring, leaving you in only the blue lingerie set that hugged your body perfectly. You felt on fire, drawn to him in every single way, and you tugged on the material of his white button-up to keep him close as your lips locked in messy passionate kisses. 

But George was leaning back from you again despite the grip you had on his shirt and he shuffled onto the bed a little more and he curled his finger at you to call you over. With an eager smile, you crawled up the end of the bed and met him in the middle, resting on your hands and knees over his outstretched legs as you leaned in towards his lips again. His hands found your hips and he eased you down onto his thighs, making you flush pink behind strong kisses. 

He left you with a few single kisses to your lips before meeting your eyes as his hands rubbed over your waist and along the thin garter belt that was wrapped around your middle. He was gorgeous and the way he looked at you made your stomach twist with eager butterflies, desperate to feel his lips on yours more and more. 

“I want to make love to you.” George breathed, his words sending shivers down your arms and a flutter between your legs, “Right here with this beautiful view of the ocean and no one to disturb us all weekend.”

“All weekend?” you chuckled softly. 

“Yeah.” George whispered, soaking up your body with his hands skimming over each curve of your skin and his lips trailed slow kisses down your neck. “I want to make love to you all weekend…never leave…keep you right here with me.” 

You giggled shyly, tangling your fingers in the back of his hair as his lips blessed your skin, “Maybe we should start with an hour and see where it takes us.”

George hummed against your skin, leaving wet kisses over your collarbones and across your shoulder, “And then order room service.”

“Alright.” you agreed shyly. 

“Okay.” George smiled at you on his lap and he leaned in to kiss your lips once more. 

Between delicious slow kisses, you spoke quietly, “Are you sure?”

George chuckled softly against your lips, “God, baby, there’s nothing I’d rather do.” 

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest and your whole body flushed with an ache for him, raising your hands to the side of his neck as you kissed him strongly a few more times. 

He pulled back slightly again, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs, “Are you sure? You seem so hesitant today, sweetheart.”

You shook your head quickly in reassurance and pulled his lips on yours for a few more quick kisses, “I’m so sure. All I want is to make love with you…I’ve been waiting so long.” 

George nipped at your bottom lip through his smile and slid his hands up your back with a peaceful inhale as his lips slotted with yours again. He sat up straighter so your chests were pressed up together and you let your tongue push against his hungrily, letting yourself fall under the bliss of quenched thirst little by little.

The sounds of the waves on the sand rushed faintly through the open windows and the chirping of wildlife rustled through the trees around the resort but you were much more focused on the soft sounds and gentle breaths that George made behind your kisses. Your hands slid down his chest again and started to unbutton the rest of his white shirt slowly. He broke your kiss to watch you for a moment, how your fingers worked the small buttons ever so gently and ever so slowly, really trying to savour every moment. His eyes lingered on your face next, hands held to your hips, not tearing his gaze away even when you pushed open his button-up shirt to reveal his toned chest and abs. Your fingers drank him up in gentle touches and you noticed small shivers rising over his skin as you glided your fingertips down between his pecs and over the chiseled dips of his abs. 

George raised his hand up to glide his fingers over your jaw, “C’mere.” 

He gently guided your chin up to lean in and kiss your lips, sharing slow open mouthed kisses that were barely heard behind the tropical summer breeze. You left your hand against his stomach and let your other tangle in the back of his hair, holding him close to prevent his lips from ever leaving yours. In a bit of excited bravery, you moved your kisses along his smooth jaw and down his neck in slow savouring movements to make him shiver, tasting the salty sea air on his skin. 

George hummed pleasantly, tilting his head to the side slightly to give you room along his neck and you left wet kisses over his warm skin and down to the dip of his shoulder where his open shirt rested. 

“Can I leave marks?” you whispered between gentle kisses. 

“Mhm.” George agreed easily, sliding his fingers in the back of your hair. “As much as you want.” 

You smiled giddily against his skin and moved back up right under his jaw, peppering soft kisses there until his head dropped back a little more. His one hand fell behind him to prop himself up in the middle of the bed and his other stayed in your hair, focusing on the feeling of your lips on his skin until you found your spot and sucked. 

George’s soft shaky sigh was infused with an ever so quiet groan and you smiled into it, tugging gently at his skin with your teeth before easing the forming bruise with a solid lick. You repeated the same routine twice more until his breathing was falling heavier and his hand was tightening in your hair to pull your lips up to his again. 

“You’re gorgeous.” you whispered into his mouth between lazy kisses. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

“I love you.” George breathed. 

“Oh my gosh, I love you.” you replied easily, your voice struggling to not waver with emotion and you covered it up with another hungry kiss. 

You shifted on his lap to kiss along his neck again and down his chest, soaking up each inch of his body like it was heaven sent. George was breathing shallowly, watching you kiss down his tanned torso and sneak a lick over his nipples before moving farther and his hand in your hair only helped guide you down. 

Your lips trailed wet open mouthed kisses between his abs, feeling the stiff muscle under your fingers in the wake of your mouth before shuffling back on his lap a little more. You brushed over the waistband of his thin white slacks and you could already see him tenting the fabric from underneath. He gasped lightly when you dusted your fingers over his growing erection and when you glanced up at him for permission he nodded you on eagerly. He shifted obediently on the mattress as you untied his pants and shuffled them down slightly as you leaned in to press your lips against his stomach again. Your eyes met as you looked up at him for a brief moment, trailing slow teasing kisses down his abs and eagerly followed the line of hair that led you from his navel and down to his pelvis. 

“Oh my gosh, baby.” George breathed, watching carefully as you tugged his pants down his thighs. 

He wasn’t wearing any underwear and you bit your lip eagerly as his dick was let free, eyeing him up for all his worth as he stood tall right in front of your face. You shoved his pants down the rest of the way and he nudged them off his ankle and to the floor and tugged his shirt open wider as you situated yourself between his legs. Your whole body tingled with desire as you draped your hair over one shoulder and leaned down to his lap. 

George inhaled sharply as you let your tongue lick over the head of his dick and his mouth fell open with a soft groan as you wrapped your lips around him and sucked softly. He made your mouth water in the most addicting way and the way he fit in your mouth was better than you ever imagined in your dreams. You moaned around him before pulling back with a small suction to leave a few wet kisses to the tip. Your eyes raised to his again as your tongue teased over the slit and rubbed along the underside of his tip and he looked like a true angel when his eyes fluttered closed and head fell back with a steady moan. 

“That’s so good.” George mumbled, lazily bunching your hair back from your face to hold back as you went down on him. He leaned on one hand against the mattress again, staring down at you as you wrapped your fingers around the length of his cock and gave him a few testing strokes enough to urge him to bite down on his bottom lip. 

You were nearly drooling down your chin at the sight of him so it was no surprise when you didn’t wait long to ease him into your mouth. Your tongue led the way, tracing each curve and gentle vein as he filled your mouth and your hand. George’s soft shaky hum had you starting to stroke him off in steady movements, letting your hand and your mouth work together around his thick length. He didn’t pressure you at all but you soon pushed your mouth down deeper and choked yourself quietly on him on your own free will. 

“F-Fuck, darling.” George whimpered, breathing heavily as his head dropped backwards. “Feels so good.”

You gave him a small moan of your own as you bobbed your head a little faster around him, muffling the sounds of your wet gags as he took up your mouth. Your spit was trickling down from your lips and slicked up his dick and the grip your hand had on the base, only making the whole situation wetter. It was blissfully perfect as you laid on your stomach between his spread legs and sucked him off in savouring steady motions with the warm ocean breeze ruffling into the room through the open windows and white sheer curtains. 

He tasted so good in your mouth - arguably better than the expensive champagne and chocolate covered strawberries - and you hollowed your cheeks to really taste the essence of him and the hint of salty precum that was oozing from his swollen tip. You sped up a little more, bobbing your head in long messy motions in time with your hand until each stroke grazed the back of your throat and your soft muffled wet gags had George’s hand tightening in your hair. 

“Oh- That’s it, darling. That’s it, gorgeous. Don’t stop.” George panted out, staring down his body to you as you kept your pace. 

The pet names made you melt and they sent your racing heart soaring, not to mention the pretty moans that fell from his throat that sounded like an angelic symphony all on their own. You shifted your hands to his thighs and eased them back towards his chest slightly, even though he was still propped up sitting. George slouched back onto his forearm while leaving his other hand still in your hair, his legs bent and pushed back slightly to give you room to suck him off. You dropped your hand down to his balls and rolled them gently in your hand, just enough to have him groaning loudly as his eyebrows furrowed in bliss. But your mouth kept working around him, taking every inch you could time and time again even as you choked yourself on him a little. 

“Don’t stop.” George repeated breathily, his voice a little strained, “Please, baby, don’t stop. Shit.”

You gave him a small moan in content as you kept going, eyes raising to his face even as his hand started to move you a little harder down on him by your hair. You didn’t mind as you wanted to please him and worship him the best you could so you took it gladly. His moans turned into whimpers and you could feel his thighs starting to clench as his hips habitually rolled up against your face and pushed himself deeper still. 

You gagged around him loudly but only sped up more despite his quick, “Sorry, love.” 

Without a break for even a single word, you kept going, giving him nice sloppy head and fondling his balls just enough to have him shuttering underneath you. George shifted again on the mattress and you used your free hand to grip his hip and hold him in place, glancing up through your lashes as his head lolled to the side and he licked his lips before biting them through his furrowed expression. 

He hummed lowly again, his hips trying to move in time with you but you held him down as he whimpered, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m gonna cum. Please. You’re gonna make me cum, baby.” 

You kept going, keeping him perfectly pleasured by hands and mouth and your moans only sent vibrations down his whole length and he exhaled deeply. You could feel his dick start to twitch in your mouth and you glanced up at his face as he started right back at you with a hazy lust over his expression, his cheeks tinted pink and his jaw clenched through a shaky whimper. 

With a few more quick sloppy bobs of your head, his thighs and his balls were tensing and in a mere second, his head was falling back with a beautiful trembling, “Oh-“

George’s fingers clutched the sheets and your hair as he came, his dick pulsing in your mouth in time with each steady spurt and you raised your hand from his thigh to jerk him off right down your throat. You sputtered around him a little but never dreamt of complaining as he groaned and whimpered and filled your mouth with the warm salty cream that you shamelessly dreamt about tasting. 

He fell into beautiful soft moans as he finished, head lolled to the side with dreamy bats of his eyelashes and his hand in your hair slipped down to caress your face as you pulled off of him with a soft slurp. You kissed over his thighs and hips and then along that thin line of hair that led you right back up to his torso. George’s chest was heaving and he gave you a soft smile as you leaned in to kiss him, swallowing up his pleased hums into your mouth as your tongues pushed messily together and lips smacked ungracefully. 

George shifted up from his forearm to his hand against the mattress and slid his other arm around your waist to hold you close, mumbling between kisses, “You’re so good, baby. Mm, I love you so much.”

“I love you more.” you answered easily, already falling into more of a comfortable state of mind after the initial shock that the island brought you. 

George shifted underneath you and carefully flipped you over on the white down-filled sheets of the king size bed, making sure you fell gently in the cradle of his arms. His lips stayed on yours for a moment longer before he moved down your neck, following the same path you took although he seemed to know your most sensitive spots with near ease. His lips under your ear had you shuttering, your arms wrapping around his back to cling onto the material of his white shirt as your legs slotted together. 

This was heaven, you were sure. Only a mere hour ago you were escaping to this island broken hearted and now, the man of your dreams was wrapped up in bed with you overlooking a picturesque view of the ocean. George’s lips suckled on your neck, the sensation shooting shivers down your spine and you clung onto him tighter. He moaned softly as your hips habitually rutted against his bare thigh and he worked to ease the hickey he left on your skin with a warm lick before shifting down to the dip of your shoulder to make another. 

The tropical breeze cooled his saliva left behind on your neck by his wet kisses and little licks and you felt more in tune with your body than ever by how it was reacting to even the slightest touch. The sun warmed you both and you could feel how its rays soaked the material of George’s white button-up and sparkled in his eyes when he glanced up at you. You ran your hand through his sandy brown hair and he eased farther down your body to leave another hickey on your collarbone and then finally reached your chest. 

“You look so beautiful, I don’t wanna take this off you.” George said softly as he traced the curve of the lingerie bra you wore as it hugged your breasts and contrasted its perfect blue against your skin. 

You shared a small smile with him as he shifted down your body, only stopping to suck a hickey into the flesh of your breast before moving down your stomach in wet kisses. Your head finally dropped back from staring at him intently, letting the cloud-like pillow catch your fall as George’s hands soaked up your hips and he covered you in slow meaningful kisses. 

The image staring back at you from the ceiling was a surprise but you soon clued into the fact that it was your own reflection staring back at you. It showed everything in a whole new angle and you felt your insides clench at the sight of George, naked except for his open white shirt, laying between your legs. 

He snapped the band of your garter belt gently at your waist and you tore your eyes from the mirror on the ceiling to his sweet face. 

“Let me?” he asked. 

You nodded him on and shuffled onto your elbows as he unclipped the straps from the garters and gently pulled the belt off your hips. He left the strip of lace around each of your thighs and sat back on his knees to pull the belt down your legs, before pausing to kiss your shin and your knee and your thigh as he lowered your legs back down to the bed. You left them bent and spread as he settled between them to press a kiss to the front of your panties. 

Still covered, you didn’t feel too exposed to him as you laid back on your forearms and watched him kiss slowly right down between your legs. The gentle touch had you taking your bottom lip between your teeth, watching how he left strong lingering open mouthed kisses right over your clothed clit, trying to play it off casually. Your heart was hammering in your chest and you forced yourself to take a deep calming breath of fresh salty ocean air to stop from getting too in your head as George kissed lower. 

Over your thin panties, George dipped out his tongue slightly between meaningful kisses and you felt his heavy warm sigh against your skin between a deep impatient, “Mmmm.” 

His lips found your inner thigh and he sucked a hickey into your flesh before mirroring it on the other side and then trailed kisses slowly down your legs as he sat back on his knees again. George’s fingers linked in the sides of your panties and pulled them down too, his eyes drinking you up even as you tried to cover yourself with your hand shyly and he dropped your underwear to the ground too. 

“Mm mm.” George scolded sweetly with a hum as he gently pushed your hands away, “Don’t hide from me, gorgeous. Let me see you.” 

“George.” you breathed nervously. 

“Don’t be shy, baby, I got you.” George whispered, leaning back down to kiss your hips and the dip where your pelvis met your legs. “Trust me.” 

“Yeah.” you agreed easily, shifting your hand into his hair instead as he nudged your legs open wider. 

It felt like you had known him for a lifetime despite the fact that it had only been short of an hour since you laid eyes on him for the first time. The trust came surprisingly easy that way and eager fuzzy warmth spread through your chest as he trailed teasing slow kisses closer and closer to your cunt. 

You hadn’t realized how horny you were for more of him until that moment as his agonizing slow kisses over your flushed skin caused your insides to clench pleadingly and a soft impatient whimper fell from your throat. George’s arms looped around your thighs and pulled your legs over his shoulders as he licked his lips and admired your body laid out for him. 

Almost shamefully, you had dreamt of that very moment for months but only ever figured it was to happen in your imagination. Now, laying naked on a tropical king size bed, you felt more blessed by the sight of George settling between your legs than the white sand beaches and perfect ocean view just beyond the open windows of the hotel room. 

“So perfect.” George whispered. “So beautiful.”

He glanced up at your face as he let a thick string of spit slip down from his lips and fall onto your throbbing cunt, the simple action making you gasp softly, only doing so again, louder, as his mouth followed suit. He gave you wet open mouthed kisses right down your folds as his hands found a nice grip around your thighs, keeping your legs open to let him have his way with you. 

“Oh my God.” you breathed out, letting your eyes raise up to the mirror on the ceiling to watch him at another angle. Your mouth fell open as his tongue lapped at your dripping arousal and swirled it and his spit around a bit more. “George.”

He hummed softly for you to feel the vibrations from his lips as he licked and sucked greedily over your folds, smearing your wetness over his mouth. You held your hand in his soft brown hair, watching him intently through the mirror as his head worked between your legs. With only the slightest touch, he could make you feel so damn good. You only craved more. 

George slid his tongue right up between your lips and let out a dreamy sigh before pushing it inside you. Your legs flinched and he held them open and in place as he fucked you with his tongue and his nose nearly brushed your aching clit. 

“Oh God.” you whimpered, “Fuck, baby-“

George flicked his tongue faster inside you, moaning greedily into your body as your hips rutted against his face. But then he pulled back suddenly, eyes raising to your face even as you stared up at the mirror reflection on the ceiling, and he slowed right down, dragging his tongue in calculated patterns between your folds. You spread your legs a little wider and George only grinned as he shifted along with you and held your legs back closer towards your chest in two large hands. 

It didn’t take you long to feel his precise motions of his tongue were actually spelling out his name letter by letter, first and last, over and over. He was claiming you as his in the quietest, filthiest, most discreet way; a way for just the two of you to know. He was making you drip but you craved more. 

You tugged at his hair with one hand and reached down to spread yourself open between two fingers with your other. George chuckled against you, moving to wet open mouthed kisses over your cunt before taking his hand from your thigh to push your fingers away and take over himself. 

He kissed over your clit, keeping his movements slow and gentle as his swollen lips pressed like heaven against your aching core. You were breathing hard in pleading anticipation, staring down your body again to watch his tongue drop out to press down against your clit. Your sharp gasp had him smiling proudly, his eyes locked on yours for a moment as he kept his tongue pressed down strongly in place. 

“Please.” you breathed out, trying to rock your hips to get him to move but he held you in place by your waist. You tugged at his hair, whining pleadingly, “George, baby, please-“

George pulled back with a wet slurp and he licked his lips before bringing his right hand up and slid two fingers in his mouth. You exhaled deeply in anticipation, watching as he slicked up his middle and ring finger in spit with his eyes locked on yours. His left arm slid around your lower stomach to hold you down as his right hand slid down between your folds to collect more of your wetness around them. 

Your feet were resting against his shoulders as you kept your legs bent back to give him room and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from your spread legs as he rubbed his fingers through your arousal until you could hear the thick sound of wetness. George rubbed his fingers between your folds a bit stronger, swirling them around your entrance teasingly, watching how your muscles cleaned for him. 

“Okay, gorgeous,” George whispered before slowly easing his middle finger inside you, “just relax.” 

You hummed peacefully, letting your head fall back gently against the pillows as he pushed his single finger all the way into you. He groaned softly at the gentle squeeze of your body and started easing it out and then back in, watching how your arousal clung to his skin with each gentle thrust. 

“That’s it.” George breathed, landing a kiss to your inner thigh as his finger worked slowly back and forth and you stayed perfectly still for him. 

But then he was adding his second finger and you gripped tighter in his hair, whimpering shakily as the slight stretch pushed across your muscles. Right away, his tongue dropped down to your clit, easing the slight discomfort with reassuring licks that made your walls clench around his fingers. 

“More.” you pleaded softly, “Please, baby. Please, Georgie.” 

“I got you, sweetheart.” George hushed you gently. 

He started to pump his fingers into you slowly and, at the same time, licked strongly over your clit. His mouth was so warm and his fingers were so slender that you couldn’t even form words for a moment, simply staring up into the mirror with an open mouth as he found home between your bent legs. The sight of your hand in his hair felt surreal enough as it was and as his tongue flicked faster over your core, you couldn’t help but grip tighter to the strands with a soft groan. 

George’s fingers nudged themselves deeper and curled upwards in steady strokes, caressing you from the inside out as his mouth only stimulated you more at your clit. His left arm that was tucked under your thigh and across your abdomen held you down for him and he helped himself to your body with pride. Your legs slipped back over his shoulders as his fingers fucked into you faster and the pleasure had you almost folding into yourself, legs wrapping around his head as your fingers tugged at his hair and shaky moans fell from your lips. 

George basked in it, humming contentedly against your most sensitive spot as he kept his steady pace. Your legs were nearly clutching his head between your thighs but he didn’t falter, fingering you in rapid flicks as his tongue swirled messily over your clit, and the room started to fill with your moans and gasps growing louder and louder. You couldn’t contain yourself - he felt far too good and nothing like you had ever imagined before - and despite your pleasurable sounds that were taken by the island breeze, you didn’t dare to stop. 

“George.” you cried out to the ceiling, ankles linking behind his shoulder blades as you nearly tugged him right into your body. With one hand in his hair, your other grabbed the material of his white shirt over his shoulder to pull on too, somehow desperate to have him impossibly closer as your toes curled. “George.” your head tossed back against the white sheets as your back tried to arch off the bed in overwhelming bliss that tightened in your stomach. You stared up into the mirror to watch him between your legs as your hips pushed up against his mouth and his fingers moved at their quick consistent pace while his mouth moaned hungrily around your clit. You swore you were seeing stars as he brought you close and with a few more shallow pants and whimpers, your mouth was falling open with a soft cry of, “O-Oh- George-“

He drank you up with ease, pulling his fingers out to rub at your clit through your orgasm so his tongue could taste every sweet drop that pooled out of you. He groaned pleasantly, slurping and sucking hungrily at your pussy as your legs trembled and your body shuttered with pleasure. You pulled at his hair and his shirt, messing his hair and crinkling the fabric as your eyes rested shut and you basked in the warm waves of beautiful pleasure that washed over you with the tropical breeze. 

George shifted out from the lock of your ankles and you let him shuffle up your body between your spread legs to kiss your swollen lips. Right away, his tongue met yours in sloppy blissful harmony and at the taste of yourself in his mouth, you pushed your head up to kiss him harder. He moaned softly into it, letting his hand cradle your jaw for a moment as he licked his way through your mouth before tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. 

When he pulled back again, you huffed in protest, arms draping lazily over your head as you stared at him longingly. George moved gently but persistently as he sat back on his knees between your spread legs and your eyes dropped to his hand that wrapped around his dick and he stroked it a few times, just enough to show off how hard he was again. You habitually pushed your thighs together tightly as you watched him touch himself but mere seconds later, he was patting his thighs. 

“Come here, sweetheart.” 

The gentle instruction could have melted you and as you moved to sit up, George shuffled closer to the middle of the king size bed on his knees. He held out his hands to you to help you scoot forward and up onto his thighs and you couldn’t help but let your lips find his neck again as you pushed off his unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders. 

George caressed your hips, your body so close to his you could feel his dick pressed up between your legs to rub against your clit when you moved. You groaned against his neck as your hips rutted lazily against his just to feel the hard shaft of his cock rubbing blissfully against your sensitive core. 

“God, you’re so pretty.” George mumbled as his hands soaked you up greedily. “You ready, baby?” 

“Please.” you agreed easily. 

“No condom,” he whispered to you as you shuffled up onto your feet on either side of him and he spread his knees slightly, “because I know how much you love to take it raw.” 

“Yeah.” you breathed into his neck as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, speaking before you could really think about it, “Put a baby in me.”

George chuckled softly as his hands groped your ass and you settled teasingly on the head of his dick and lingered there a moment to feel the anticipation of what was about to happen for one more moment. You had waited so long. He left a few wet kisses on your neck and lifted his lips up to your ear to whisper, “As you wish.” 

His large hands helped to guide you down on his dick, staring up at your face to watch how the strong stretch to your muscles made your expression tighten as you sank down on him. Regardless of the slight pain, you focused on the fact that you could feel every curve and every vein on his thick cock as your body sheathed him perfectly. You could feel yourself salivating as you only got him deeper and deeper, staring into his lustful blue eyes in the light of the afternoon sunshine that danced in through the wide open windows and his hands cradled your body carefully and lovingly. George was biting his lip strongly, his eyes locked on yours despite the quiet deep groans that fell from his chest as you squeezed around him so tightly. 

You finally bottomed out, ass pressed against the tops of his spread thighs, and you were nearly sure he was at your cervix. You let out a shaky sigh and held your hands snugly on his shoulders to steady yourself to ease back up his length a little and then drop back down. George hissed softly at the sudden motion but gladly followed your small bounces with his hands on your waist, groaning as he leaned into your chest to kiss over your lace clad breasts that bounced gently in his face. 

“Fuck, darling, you feel so good.” George whispered against your skin, his breathing heavy already and only falling weaker as he lazily started meeting your halfway with little thrusts. 

“Shit!” you squeaked softly, sliding your hands from his shoulders to wrap your arms around his neck as your lips dipped down to find his. 

George moaned against your mouth, easing you up and down by his hands as his hips kept soft thrusts in time with it and you held yourself steady on your feet against the mattress and moved with him. You kissed sloppily for a few seconds before having to pull back to breathe and your head fell back with a shaky sigh. George went for your neck, kissing and sucking over your skin as you stared up at the ceiling mirror above you and followed each of your gentle bounces and how he moved right with you.

“You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart.” George said against your neck, “You take my cock so well, my love.” 

His dirty words had you moaning for more, trying to bounce on him faster. George shushed you softly and stopped you completely so you were placed right down on his lap, and he tucked your legs around his waist before shifting off his knees to sit against the sheets. He draped his legs out beneath you and wrapped his arms around your body as well and squeezed you close to feel more of him. No instructions needed to be shared as you wrapped your arms around his head and nuzzled into his neck and started grinding right down on him in strong circles. 

“Oh, good girl.” George panted. “Oh, fuck, baby, that’s my good girl.” 

“You’re so big.” you whined against his ear as your right hand tangled in the back of his hair and your grinding turned into messy little bounces. “F-Fuck, baby, I can feel you so deep-“ 

“You’re so perfect. You’re so fucking perfect, darling. C’mere.” George leaned his head back slightly to find your lips and you whimpered pleasantly into the off centered kiss before your tongues met and led you into deep passionate lazy kisses. 

With cheeks flushed pink, you felt as though you had reached the peak of life’s blissful offerings right there, that nothing on earth could be this incredible. The taste of his lips, the heat of his touch, the steady stretch he pushed so deep inside you; it was heavenly. Sitting entangled together in the middle of the king size bed was where you had always dreamt to be, and your eyes fluttered closed as his lips found your neck and you ground down on him steadily. You wanted to feel everything and to bask in each second that passed because who knew how long you would have him to yourself. You wanted him forever, to never leave, to fit together as one until the end of time. You couldn’t think of letting him go. Not after this. 

Your thoughts seemed to spiral and your hips slowed down on him until you were barely moving, simply clutching onto him and staring into space against his neck. George sensed your change and slid his hands up your hips and to your face, cradling your cheeks in his hands to bring your lips to his for a few tender kisses. 

“I love you.” he whispered. 

“I love you.” you replied just as quietly. 

“You are my everything.” George breathed, his lips brushing yours as he spoke so closely. “You are the love of my life.”

“George.” you said bashfully, trying to hide the blush of your cheeks that he kissed over. 

“I mean it,” he whispered against your ear, “I love you.”

It was as if those three words sparked an eternal flame in your stomach, soaring up through your heart and your chest and through your cheeks and right down to where he was tucked deeply inside you. You had him. All of him. For an afternoon, for a weekend, and what felt like was to be a lifetime. You shivered in his arms, held by him right up to his chest until you felt completely encompassed and the warm ocean air wafted through the billowing sheer curtains and wrapped around the both of you like a ribbon to tie you together for the rest of time. It felt so easy with him, there, like that, and you slid your hands out of his hair and down his jawline, keeping your eyes on his. 

“I love you, my sunshine.” you breathed, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs before leaning down to kiss him again. 

George locked your bottom lip between his two, savouring your few kisses between gentle wet smacks of parting and breaths of meeting, and secured his arms around your body. He lifted you up slightly and you clung onto him, focussing on his lips on yours as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he gently laid you down onto the fluffy white sheets. He pushed deeper into you, urging your head back against the pillow and you broke your kiss with a soft gasp, staring up into his eyes as he repeated that action, easing into you again so you could feel every inch of him. 

“There.” he cooed, pushing in deep again. “Good?”

You nodded, “So good.”

“Okay.” George smiled softly and leaned down to kiss you. 

You let your lips lock with his, arms raising to drape around his shoulders as he thrusted steadily into you. He was nearly pulling out all the way before pushing back in deep but he still managed to kiss you right through it, sharing heavy breaths and soft moans between your lips. With your hands on his bare back, you could feel his muscles tensing and moving along with him and you felt how the sun kissed glow of his skin under your fingertips was soft with touches from

paradise. George dropped his head to your neck with his forearms rested on either side of you and moved his hips into yours in intoxicating curling thrusts that tingled every single nerve in your body. 

The reflection in the spotless mirror above you only made your body flush hot in desire as you stared up at it from over George’s shoulder. You could see every inch of his bare skin that way and could follow your hands as you soaked up his body down his back and to his thighs, pulling him in with hands and ankles linked behind his back. With each deep curling thrust into you he was groaning against your ear, filling your soul with the bliss of his pleasure that you were bringing him. It made you crave more of him; having him on top of you and inside you wasn’t enough anymore. 

Your hands pressed into the muscles of his back like he was moldable sand and your linked ankles pressed the heels of your feet into his bum to pull him deeper with each rock of his hips. Your teeth had trapped your bottom lip and you stared up into the mirror to watch him have you right in the centre of the king size bed. He smelt like the ocean, like the salty fresh air, like freedom. 

“More.” you whispered before you could think. “I want more of you.” 

George hummed against your neck and left a fleeting kiss under your ear, “Hang on, sweetheart.”

You reached for him as he sat back from you on his knees and pulled your legs out from around his waist. He lifted them up to his shoulders and sent you a small smile as he rested one hand down gently on your lower stomach and pushed his hips into yours again. He could get so much deeper that way and your eyes nearly rolled back in your head when he nudged against your innermost muscles. 

“Better?” George asked softly. 

The afternoon tropical sun that came in through the large open windows glinted against his abs and the muscles of his torso in the thin sheen of sweat that was forming. His sandy brown hair was ruffled messily on top of his head and falling over his forehead as he stared down at you with blue eyes like the ocean. They sparkled. 

“Yeah.” you answered, sliding your hands up his arms. 

George leaned back down over you and your ankles linked together behind his neck as your eyes met and he thrusted slowly into you again. You could see him slightly clench his jaw as he sheathed inside you all the way and his soft groan urged your hands to hold tighter to his biceps. He found his pace again with deep curling thrusts that had your eyes fluttering closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip with a pleased whimper. 

“Gonna go faster, darling.” George whispered. 

“Please.” you agreed with ease. 

His hands gripped tighter to the sheets on either side of you to ground himself slightly as he sped up, pulling back to thrust into you faster and used the slight spring in the mattress to his benefit. 

“Yeah.” you sobbed out without thinking, letting your gaze drift past him again to the mirror. 

You could feel his warm breath and his soft grunts in time with his thrusts against your cheeks, but you didn’t tear your eyes from the sight of him in the reflection above you down to your legs hooked over his shoulders. He kept pulling back to push down into you again and again, focusing harder rather than curling because having you bent so much already had him teasing your g-spot. You were waiting for it, your breath constantly freezing in anticipation in your chest, and you looked back at his face with hands clung onto his arms. He kept your eye contact, sharing breaths as he shifted slightly higher and tried a bit of a newer angle to watch how your mouth dropped open slightly. 

“Right there?” George asked with a soft chuckle. 

“Uh huh. Right there.” you nodded quickly. 

“Okay, baby. I got it.” George whispered, holding himself up on his hands beside your head as he pulled out of you just long enough to shove back in. 

“Oh God.” you cried out. 

“Tell me if it’s too much.” George breathed. 

You only shook your head as he continued, fucking down into you in quick thrusts to hit that perfect spot inside you each time. As he got harder, the faint crash of waves on sand from the beaches were hidden behind the steady slap of his skin on yours and your breaths mixing between shared soft grunts and moans. Your hands moved from his biceps to his waist and you followed each of his messy movements eagerly, savouring each delicious thrust as you tried to pull him impossibly deeper. 

“Mmm, you feel so good.” George mumbled. “Are you close?” 

You couldn’t deny the lust in his voice that only helped his perfect strokes to make you near dizzy and you could only nod out a shaky, “Mhm.” 

“Yeah?” he taunted breathlessly, his accent thick with lust, “I want to make you cum, baby. I want to feel your pretty pussy cum for me.”

“George.” you whimpered at his words. 

He only worked harder, keeping that consistent pace that had your toes curling and your nails digging into his back. He wouldn’t stop staring at you, even when your face screwed up in pleasure and your pleading moans fell from your lips. 

“Feel me.” George whispered. “Feel how deep I am…how good it feels…feel my body on top of you.”

“George.” you cried shakily.

“How much I love you.” 

“Oh my God-“ your voice was wavering as you felt your stomach tighten and your muscles clench down on him. 

“That’s it, gorgeous.” George praised, not hesitating for a moment through his consistent pace and perfect angle. “Fuck, you look so pretty. Shit, baby, I wanna put all my love into you…always.” 

“Please, George, please, baby-“ you cried out shakily. 

He groaned lowly, eyebrows furrowing in perfect pleasure, his skin slapping filthily with yours until you could feel him twitch slightly inside you. He bit his lip strongly, letting you scratch up his back in your efforts to cling onto something. 

“Cum with me, darling.” George panted. “On 3…okay?”

Your pleading whimper was agreement enough. 

George couldn’t help but thrust into you a little faster, “Okay, gorgeous. 3…” 

You stared up at him, focussed on nothing else in the world but the addicting fullness he could give you and the raw pleasure that ripped through your body. He was a wonder on top of you and you slid one hand to the back of his neck. 

“2…” 

It was hard to hold back but for him you would do anything, especially as he stared into your eyes under those long lashes and wisps of brown hair. You didn’t even need to touch yourself to feel close, already wanting to let go even if he was making you hold it for a few seconds longer. 

“1…”

George barely caught a breath and didn’t even wait a full count before rushing out a, “Now.”

You didn’t need any other instruction; that simple word was enough to send you over the edge. Your right hand flew to his hair to have something substantial to grab onto as you came and he shoved right into you and held it there for a few seconds as your muscles squeezed down on him. George’s head tossed back slightly as he let a loud moan fall from his throat and you felt the first spurt release inside you. You whimpered pitchily, eyes screwed shut and back arching blissfully off the perfect white sheets. George easily slid his arm under your waist and pulled back just enough to push nice and deep inside you again as he whimpered and groaned and filled you up with warm shots of cum. 

It was heavenly, especially feeling how he pulsed inside your tight muscles with each burst, and his face of pleasure was nothing short of perfection. You cried his name blissfully, not caring if any strangers could hear you through the open windows from the beach, and your moans were sung through the summer breeze. You clung onto him as he held you close, leaning up slightly to swallow his pleasant moans with your lips and you kissed lazily for a few moments as the intensity of your orgasms subsided. 

Both of you pulled back from your kiss at the same time to breathe, sharing soft smiles as George carefully let your legs rest down against the bed. He slid out of you and reached a hand down to soothe your sensitive wet body with gentle touches as he shuffled onto the sheets beside you. You left your legs spread lazily and let your eyes linger on his face while he rubbed his fingers softly over your folds and finally down your thigh, smearing the mix of your cum over your flushed skin and linked his finger in the lace band of your garter. With a pleasant hum, you leaned in towards him and kissed his lips softly, smiling into it as he melted against your touch and kissed you back. 

His hand raised to your chin, holding you there as you shared lingering breathless kisses before he left one more to your nose in conclusion. With a tired sigh, he laid flat beside you and you both stared up into the mirror above as you steadied your breathing and tried to compose yourself over what just happened. 

George seemed to read your mind as he broke your silence, “That was incredible.” 

“Yeah.” you chuckled softly. “That was...amazing.” 

George leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek before he was shuffling the white sheets up around your bodies to keep somewhat decent with the wide open windows and ocean breeze that left you exposed. You moved carefully with him as he draped his arm around your shoulders and you cuddled into his side while sharing a down-filled pillow. Your arm tucked around his middle and you slid your fingers over his abs and rested your hand against his chest, smiling to yourself at the feeling of his strong heartbeat under your palm. He kissed your forehead and brushed his thumb over your bare shoulder lazily, letting his eyes close with his cheek against your head as if ready for a late afternoon nap. 

Your eyes drifted up to the mirror again as your head rested on his shoulder and you let your eyes soak up the image of the two of you together. It looked surreal, like a painting created of the brightest and most vibrant hues of the sun and the ocean and the sand, although you were sure there was no better composition on earth. George’s eyes were closed, long lashes resting against his flushed cheeks, and his nose was pressed to your head like he was trying to inhale your scent into his dreams. You didn’t move an inch as you stared up at him and let your eyes trace each curve of his muscle and the lines of his body and up his opposite arm that was lazily tucked up behind his head of messy brown hair. He was peaceful...serene...tranquil, and a sight more breathtaking than any corner of the remote island you found yourself on. 

In the silence only taken up by the distant crash of waves and songs of tropical birds, you spoke, “Whoever put that mirror up there was a fucking genius.”

George’s lips turned up into a smile and he shifted slightly without opening his eyes, leaving a kiss to your temple. You let your eyes close too and cuddled closer into him, even as your body shifted and started to push out some of the thick creamy liquid that had claimed you from the inside out. Your soft flat hum had him kissing your head again and his fingers danced along the back of your neck in feather soft patterns. 

“You feeling okay?” George asked in a whisper. 

“Never better.” you answered easily. 

You leaned your head back slightly and stared up at him as he met your gaze and he dipped down to kiss your lips, once, twice, three times, and then dusted one over your cheek as your head found his shoulder again. 

“I love you.” he breathed into your hair. 

“I love you.” you smiled softly, savouring the feeling of his warm skin pressed against your own. 

Your legs tangled together under the white sheets, wrapped up in each other’s arms, with breaths and hearts in steady time. Time felt infinite. The thought of leaving that very crease of the mattress was dreadful to you and you forced yourself to take it minute by minute; caressing his chest with your thumb. His skin was warm and tasted salty with sweat when you kissed him. You trailed slow kisses over his collarbones and along his neck and breathed him in, the faint lingering scent of his cologne and the natural pheromones of his body that only drew you in more and more. 

“I want to stay right here with you forever.” you whispered dreamily. 

“Mm,” George smiled and rubbed his hand tenderly over your back, “Me too.” 

You tightened your arm around his body and linked your leg over his two, ignoring the warm ache of your hips and the thick cream that dripped out of you and onto the sheets below. George shifted slightly and rose his arm up with a stretching groan until his muscles tensed for a moment underneath you. He sighed deeply and dropped his arm above his head, his eyes blinking open to meet your gaze through the mirror on the ceiling. You both broke into bashful smiles in the reflection and he kissed your head once more before taking his arm from around your shoulders and started to move away from you. 

“Where are you going?” you asked quickly, reaching out to grab his arm again. 

“Relax, my love.” George chuckled as he sensed the slight panic in your voice and he stroked your cheek lovingly, “Aren’t you hungry?”

You hadn’t realized it at first, too preoccupied by him, but when he said it you realized how hungry you actually were. You smiled up at him and nodded and he dipped down to kiss you once before you let him shuffle away from you and to the side of the bed. 

The white sheets rested around his waist, showing off the toned muscle of his back and the few red scratches that marked him as yours. Still laying in the middle of the bed, you reached out a hand to rub over his back and his waist as he lifted the corded phone from the bedside table to call the resort restaurant. 

He sounded so professional on the phone as he ordered you each a burger and fries and you rolled over to hide your blissful blush against his shoulder. Your arm snaked around his body and held him close and his hand rested gently over yours against his chest. He thanked the person on the phone before hanging up and rolling over to tackle you down again into the cloudlike king size bed, showering you in kisses to make you laugh gleefully into the tropical air. 

There you laid together, sharing kisses and caresses as the minutes passed by and the waves greeted the shore in rhythmic whispers in the distance. Something about his naked body pressed up and entangled with yours was heavenly and you felt as light as the sheer white curtains billowing in the warm breeze. 

A quarter hour later, there was a knock on the door and both of you glanced across the room to the direction of the small entryway. George was propped up over top of you but you eased him to the side so you could retrieve your order, leaving him with a few quick kisses before grabbing your silk robe from where it had been tossed to the floor. He flopped back onto the bed as you tied up your robe and hurried over to answer the door. 

The island host was standing on the other side when you peeked out, the room service trolley at her side, and she sent you a knowing smile and a whisper of, “How are you enjoying your stay so far? It looks like you’ve been having fun.”

You hand raised instinctively to the side of your neck that was littered in hickeys but you didn’t feel an ounce of embarrassment. You only grinned at her and replied softly, “It’s…incredible. Is this real?”

“It is not a dream, I can assure you of that.” she said with a gentle laugh. 

“How is this real? How could he tell me he loves me so easily…and make love like he meant it?” your words fumbled out of you before you could think. 

She only offered you a, “Don’t question the workings of the island. It’s here to give you what you need. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You glanced behind you quickly to make sure George wasn’t overhearing before you turned back to her and asked quietly, “I have never felt this…at ease in so long. Peaceful. My heart feels so full. I…I can’t believe this.”

“You’re glowing.” the host complimented. 

“He’s everything I dreamt about and more. He’s…so perfect.” you whispered, resting your cheek against your hand as you held onto the doorframe. “I’m dizzy in love.”

“Well, I’m glad the island could help you!” she slid the small trolley between you, “I just wanted to check in and bring your dinner along with me.”

“Before you go,” you spoke up quickly. 

She stopped herself from leaving and waited for your continuation. 

You shuffled nervously, anxious for the answer she would give you to the question that burned in the back of your mind. Finally, you asked, “What happens when I leave on Monday morning? Will this just…be forgotten? Will I go back to being nothing to him?”

The host sighed, a kind smile unwavering from her face, “Just live in the present and take it minute by minute. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” 

You bit nervously on your bottom lip but before you could answer, a hand was resting on your waist and George was standing right behind you, wrapped in the white down-filled duvet. 

“What’s taking so long over here, darling? I’m starving.” George said lightheartedly, sending a small smile to the host of the island as he stood right up close beside you. 

Without answering him directly, the host just directed more towards you a blanket request of, “Just focus on having a relaxing and calming stay this weekend. You know where to find me if you need anything.”

You and George both thanked her and she headed off down the wood path through the resort once more. He slid his arm tighter around your middle, “What was that all about?”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder to meet his gaze, “Nothin’. Just telling her how much we have enjoyed ourselves so far.”

George gave your hip a squeeze and your bum a little smack and pressed a strong kiss to your neck, “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s eat.” 

You were sure there was no better bliss than waking up tangled in sheets and George’s arms. You stayed in bed for over an hour, cuddling and drifting in and out of sleep as the sun rose over the horizon. After a filling breakfast at the resort restaurant with all your favourite foods lined up along the buffet and piled on your plate, you were guided to the spa. George didn’t leave your side all morning, always staying within arms reach and holding your hand as you checked into your appointment. 

The lady led you down the bamboo lined hallway to the large dark room near the end, lined with candles and infused with natural scents of eucalyptus and sage. The two single beds were resting in the centre of the room and the lady left you to prepare for the massage. 

“I thought I was going to have to do all of this by myself.” you admitted quietly, watching as George untied his robe and laid it over the small chair by the wall. 

“Would you rather be by yourself?” he asked. 

“God, no.” you answered easily. 

George laughed lightly. 

You both undressed to your underwear and draped your spa robes neatly to the side. With your arm over your bare chest, you shuffled onto the massage bed, trying not to shy away from George’s obvious staring from a few feet away. Both of you were perfectly aware that your skin was marked up in love bites and his back donned red scratches, but on Fantasy Island, no one would give a second glance. It was your fantasy after all. 

The thin linens were tucked up your back as you laid on your stomachs and you waited for the two masseuses to enter, letting the warm air and the soothing spa music to relax you. 

“I’ve never had one of these.” George spoke softly. 

You turned your head to look over at him on your left, “You haven’t?”

“Not like this. Just work-related massages…sports massages…this is nicer.” George smiled over at you and reached out a hand from under the blanket. You did the same and your fingers linked together lazily for a moment as you shared a smile from opposite massage tables. 

When the masseuses came into the room, they got you both situated and set up their shared selection of oils and creams. With your head facing down in the cushioned face cradle, you couldn’t see George but even just knowing he was right there beside you was enough to ease any stresses you still had left over from your last few months. The two men worked on your backs first, slicking up your skin in warm oils and working their hands along your muscles beautifully. 

George’s soft groan from your left made you smile to yourself quietly, keeping your eyes closed as you focused on the pressured hands of your masseuse. 

“Ugh, fuck, that’s good.” George groaned, his voice muffled by the linens. “Ohh, yeah.”

“Baby,” you chuckled shyly and reached out your hand towards him, “Stop.”

“Stop what?” George mumbled, lazily taking your hand in his. 

“Stop...being so loud.” 

He only hummed, resting his face back into the bed just as his masseuse pressed his thumbs down into his shoulders. George’s deep moan nearly shot shivers down your spine and right between your legs and you gripped tighter onto his hand. You laid side by side on your individual beds, holding hands between you, and basking in the comforting warmth that relaxed your body and your mind. 

Despite the pleasing deep touch of your masseuse over your stiff muscles, you could really only focus on George’s soft moans and groans that he let out with his tension into the linens. You really were looking forward to your massage but now, you were more looking forward to getting back to the room. 

When the hour and a half was up and the two masseuses left the room to let you rise when you wished, both you and George sighed deeply at the same time. You shared soft laughter between you and glanced over at each other from where you were now laying on your backs. The linens were pulled up your chests, keeping you decent and keeping George’s abs covered to stay somewhat warm. Your hands reached out to find each others again and his thumb rubbed over your knuckles gently, eyes lingering through the dark candle lit room. 

“This was better than I expected.” George admitted. 

“You sure you didn’t want a mud bath or something instead?” you chuckled. 

George shook his head, “No way. This was perfect.” 

With one more squeeze of your hands, you both slowly started to get up and slipped on the robes again. George tied the cloth belt around his waist and you stepped up to set your hand on his arm and pushed a quick kiss to his lips. 

“What was that for?” he chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist to pull you close and kiss you again before you could answer. 

“I just love you.” you shrugged. “And this weekend.” 

George brushed his hand over your messy hair and down your jaw, “I love you too.”

“I feel so slimy from the oils.” you whispered as he leaned in to kiss you softly again. 

“Shower?” he offered between gentle kisses to your waiting lips. 

“Yeah.” you agreed quietly, resting your hands against the front of his robe as you gladly accepted his kisses. 

“With me?” George tried. 

You smiled wider and slid your arms around his waist to cling onto him in a tight hug, “Yes, please.” 

He cradled your cheek in his hand and kissed you deeply, capturing your bottom lip between his two in slow kisses that made your heart race. You pulled him closer until your robe clad bodies were pressed up against each other and shared lingering kisses for a few more seconds. 

Finally, George took your hand and pulled you out of the massage room and into the hallway of the spa, the bright sunlight blinding you slightly as you stepped out into the light, but he just led the way over the soft flooring. A few doors down near the end of the hall were the private change rooms and he pulled you into one without a word. You couldn’t stop a small giggle from falling from your lips as he locked the door behind you and let your body drape around him. 

The set up of the small change room was that of a full bath with additional lockers and seating areas and a sauna in true spa fashion. Along the far side was a full wall of windows framing the bathtub and the glass stand up shower, providing a full view of lush foliage right out towards the white sand beaches and crystal blue ocean in the distance. You let your eyes take in the scenery as George’s arms snaked around your waist and his lips found your neck in wet open mouthed kisses. He didn’t seem bothered by the massage oils that lightly coated your skin. 

You set your hands on his biceps underneath the soft white fabric of his robe and smiled to yourself as his touch sent shivers down your spine, “Baby, you were moaning so loud during the massage.” 

George chuckled against your neck, “So what? It felt good.” 

You hummed softly and he lifted his head up to push his lips on yours. You gladly accepted his kisses, staying slow and gentle. 

In a whisper, he spoke, “Did it turn you on?”

“Maybe.” you teased. 

“All I could think about was having your hands on me like that…with those oils and creams and rubbing it into my body…all over…can you blame me?” His hands slid into yours and your fingers linked lazily together at your sides. His eyes stayed locked with yours as if purposely rising that anticipation between you as your lips rested only millimeters apart. His gaze dropped to your lips then back up. “God, I just want you all over me.”

Your robe dropped before you could even think, his hands and yours at fault to the sudden action before the rush to undress really started. George yanked his robe off too and your eyes stayed locked as you both pushed your underwear down and kicked it to the side. You nearly lunged for him, his arms welcoming you eagerly as your lips met messily and your slick skin met in a perfect warm embrace. His moan wasn’t unlike the ones he had let out during the massage and as his tongue pushed into your mouth, he grabbed your thigh and hiked your leg up around his waist. 

Right in the middle of the room you stood together, in the light of the afternoon sun, bare bodies slick in oil pressed together and hands gripping onto flesh as you kissed. You were sure you were leaving more scratches against his back, clinging onto him tightly as he kissed the air from your lungs. His handprints smeared over your warm skin, muscles eased from your massage and now craving him more and more as he drank you up in his hands. 

“George.” you breathed into his mouth. 

“Come.” he whispered, leaving you with a bite to your bottom lip before taking your hand and pulling you after him into the large glass shower. 

Your eyes lingered on his bare body as he turned on the water and set the temperature, fully exposed to him all naturally in the light of the tropical sun streaking through the window wall framing the shower. He was glowing, not only from the oil that slicked up his skin, but from the paradise that looked so good on him. He was a vision and you still couldn’t believe your luck as he turned back to you, captured your chin in his hand, and parted his lips to lock with yours passionately. 

George grabbed your hips and pulled you into the stream of warm water, blindly kissing through it as the oil was washed from your bodies slowly and your hair was damped to fall over your shoulders and foreheads. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and tilted your head to the side to kiss him deeper, pushing your tongue against his eagerly as your chests pressed together and bodies moulded together. 

George leaned back from your lips and reached a hand up to push his soaked hair back from his face before setting it back around your waist, “You know, baby…”

You stared at his lips as he spoke, watching how he formed each word. 

“That full body massage was so good but...it was missing one thing.” 

“What’s that?” you giggled softly. 

George’s hand slapped down hard against your ass, the water on your skin causing the sound to echo loudly through the shower, “This perfect part of you. I should pick up the slack.” 

You shared soft laughter at his ridiculousness as you both leaned in for more kisses and his hands groped the flesh of your bum, pulling you tighter against him. His dick was pressed against your thigh and could feel how hard he was getting. It only made you tug his lips on yours stronger, letting the water cascade over both of you steadily onto the marble floor. The soft rush of the shower water was the perfect backdrop to your steamy kisses, muting the world around you even if it was on display through the large picture window overlooking the greenery and the distant beach. 

George slowly walked you out of the stream of water and pushed you back against the glass, moving his kisses down your neck before he was dropping to his knees. You exhaled deeply in anticipation, letting him lift your left leg up to drape over his shoulder and his eyes stayed on yours as he kissed over your inner thigh briefly. His large hands slid up your hips and back down to your thighs and your ass, squeezing and rubbing and massaging until you were relaxing under his touch. 

“That’s my girl.” George whispered, kissing over your hips slowly. “Just relax.” 

You pushed your hand through his wet hair lazily, scratching your fingers through the roots just as he sucked a hickey into your thigh. You hummed softly, letting your head roll back gently against the window and your eyes fluttered closed as he slid his hand between your legs. He rubbed slow stripes back and forth over your folds, just enough to feel how wet you were while still teasing you agonizingly slowly. 

“George.” you breathed, trying to push your hips towards him, “Please, baby.” 

He shuffled closer on his knees, stretching your leg a bit farther over his shoulder to spread you open for him to lean in and swipe his tongue along your folds. Your breath shuttered in your chest as he licked his lips free of the taste of you and let his eyes raise up to yours as he moved back in again. His tongue glided strongly between your legs, parting your lips to taste some of the sweet arousal that pooled out of you and he moaned pleasantly against your damp skin. 

“Holy...fuck, George.” you whimpered shakily, dropping your head to look down at him with our hand in his hair as he suckled and licked and kissed over your cunt. 

His large hands slid up your thighs and around your body to grope your ass. Your hips pushed off the window slightly towards his face and gave him room to spank you lightly before he grabbed tightly to your flesh and pulled you closer to his mouth. 

His tongue slid up to your clit and he swirled strong circles over it to make your fingers grip tighter to his hair as your whole body flinched. A soft shriek fell from your lips and you scrunched your nose up as he found a steady pattern with his tongue. His hands stayed on your ass, massaging your flesh as he pressed strong swirls against your clit and finally let one hand move to spread you open between thumb and forefinger. 

You squealed his name as he sucked hard over your clit, your heel pressing against his back between his shoulder blades to keep his face between your legs. Both your hands gripped tightly in his wet hair as you rolled your hips against his face and he stared up at you behind long lashes, not faltering for a moment. His mouth made filthy wet sounds against your body as he sucked and licked his way through your most sensitive spots, yet was muffled by the drone of the shower still running just behind him. 

“Baby,” you cried out softly, moaning softly through the glass shower, “George…sweetheart…Geor-G-George, baby-“

He only moaned louder against you, pressing his tongue down harder and flicked it back and forth faster and faster as his hands squeezed your ass. You tossed your head back against the glass, biting your lip desperately as you whimpered and moaned through the echoing shower, and rubbed your hips harder against his face. 

“God, you taste so,” George paused for one more strong lick, “so fucking good.” 

He rose up from his knees no matter how much you tried to keep him there with your hands in his hair and your leg around his back. George only shifted your leg from his shoulder to his waist and he pushed you back against the window harder, trapping you snugly against his body. His hard cock naturally fit between your legs and you couldn’t help but try to rut your hips against it desperately, letting out a strangled little cry just as he leaned in to kiss you again. You could taste yourself on his mouth and you held his face in your hands as you sucked on his tongue and lips and savoured his sloppy kisses. 

You couldn’t even worry about what anyone else might see from the outside of the window as you were far too concerned with what was happening inside. The layers of foliage would hopefully disguise you enough. With your bare body pressed against the glass wall, George held you there strongly by a hand on your shoulder as his other dropped between you to angle his dick between your legs. 

“Yes. Please.” you whispered to him, tugging your leg up higher around his waist to spread yourself open and he slid the tip between your folds, back and forth. You bit your lip again, arms draped around his shoulders, staring at his concentrated face as he watched himself tease you. But in a sudden instant, he was pushing strongly inside you.

Your jaw fell slack at the stretch, whimpering softly as his eyes rose to yours and he groaned lowly between you. He fit inside you so perfectly that you couldn’t hide the hint of a smile that grazed your face. George’s hands dropped to your ass again and he hoisted you closer until your tiptoe was barely left on the wet tile floor, your body pressed flush against his as he was buried nice and deeply inside you. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” George whispered, his lips grazing yours with how close you were, “And you feel so incredible, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck me.” you blurted out quietly, staring him right in the eyes. 

“Of course.” George chuckled softly, leaning in for a sloppy kiss as he hiked you up higher against the window and you let your other leg join around his waist. He shuffled in place to make sure he had a good grip on you and he pushed your back against the glass, having been warmed by the tropical island heat. 

He rolled his hips into you slowly at first, his hands gripping tightly to your ass to pull your body into each motion. Your breathing was falling shallow and in time with each other, staring into each other’s eyes in your close proximity, and your hand slid into the back of his wet hair. George started to thrust into you deeply, pulling out and pushing back in with long slow strokes that had you moaning pleasantly at the beautiful stretch. His lips captured your gaze and you couldn’t help but stare at the perfect shape of his cupid’s bow and the plush enticing curves begging for a kiss, entranced by the sight of him and his every detail, especially as his teeth sunk gently into the supple pink flesh of his bottom lip. 

He pushed a little stronger into you, groaning lightly between you as he did so and you linked your ankles together behind his back to keep him nice and deep. His eyes stayed on your face, your body shifting slightly against the window with each strong slow thrust, up and back down, again and again. 

“More, baby, please.” you begged quietly. 

George’s lips perked up at the corner in a small smirk before he pushed into you stronger. 

“Yeah-“ you breathed, gasping as he shoved into you harder. “Shit-“

“Good?” he asked breathily. 

“Harder. Faster. Gimme more.” you ordered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders tighter as his hips pushed against yours with more force. You moaned softly as he picked up speed, your eyes locked as he fucked into you sharply. 

George’s hands on your ass kept you open wide for him to use and his heavy breaths fell in rough pants infused with quiet grunts and moans with each snap of his hips. He kept his legs spread slightly to keep balance in the shower and held you against the window for support as he bounced you on his dick in time with his hard thrusts. 

“George! Fuck! Yes!” you squealed, clawing up his back as your forehead fell gently against his. “Oh my God!” 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. You’re so fucking perfect.” George mumbled between you. 

You pushed your lips on his, both of you moaning through ungrateful kisses as he fucked you against the window. One of his hands moved to press against the glass beside your head, his tongue fighting its way into your mouth through your shared groans as you clung onto him desperately. 

Despite the water that was still running through the shower, the wet clap of your skin together overpowered it with ease. You had to break your kiss to breathe, gasping in pleasant overwhelm as your head fell back and his lips met your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close. 

“Oh, George-“ you cried shakily. 

“Say my name, baby.” he groaned into your neck. 

“George.” you repeated in a tone dripping with lust. 

“Fuck.” he grunted, grabbing one of your breasts in his hand as he pounded into you harder. 

“George!” you gasped, tugging at his hair as your head fell back against the glass. “Oh, George, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum!” 

But then he stopped suddenly and didn’t even give you a chance to complain before he was setting your feet down on the ground and spun you around to face out of the large paned window. Your hands instinctively went to the glass just as he slid his dick between your legs and you pushed your hips back to help him inside you again. Your shaky moan at the return of the stretch and his hands finding your hips and his lips meeting your neck. 

His hands kept your legs straight and together, creating the tightest little spot for him to squeeze into and right away, he was fucking into you roughly. Your hands squeaked down the slightly steamy glass as your chest pushed out a loud moan and you tried to push back on him for more. His breath was hot against your neck, one arm around your middle and the other gripping one of your breasts as he pounded into you, groaning hungrily against your wet skin. 

Your eyes struggled to stay open but you let yourself take in the beautiful nature that surrounded the resort, displayed right before you out the window wall of the spa shower. From the breeze ruffling the trees to the muted crash of waves onto the sandy shore, it was beautiful and serene and not a person in sight to stumble upon your steamy shower scene. 

The shower only echoed the filthy loud clap of George’s skin on yours that grew only louder as he sped up. You reached a hand back to tangle in his hair, arching your back for him to have him ramming into your g-spot perfectly. 

“Oh, fuck, baby!” you squealed. “Right there! Please, please, please!”

George’s teeth sunk into your shoulder gently, moaning loudly against your flesh as your pussy squeezed around him tightly. You were just so warm and wet he couldn’t get enough, his hips snapping against yours at nearly record speeds, driven by fierce desire. 

He clung onto you possessively, groaning against your ear, “That’s it, beautiful. Cum on my cock. Come on. Show me how much you love me, baby girl.” 

“Geo-o-o-rge-“ you sobbed out blissfully in time with his rough thrusts, tugging harder at his hair over your shoulder as your other hand dropped to swirl messily over your clit. “F-Fuck!”

“Good girl, sweetheart.” George praised, his warm jagged breath sending shivers down your neck, “Shit, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight, darling.”

“Cum inside me.” you whimpered. “I want it so fucking bad!” 

“You’re so fucking dirty, baby. I love you so fucking much.” George groaned, smacking your hand away from between your legs to take over for you. His slender fingers rubbed rough circles over your clit as he pounded into you from behind and your whole body shuttered with overwhelming pleasure. 

You couldn’t even speak for a moment, breath knocked from your lungs, and you just stared out the window with your mouth hanging agape. Finally, your chest heaved with a sudden inhale and your legs trembled beneath you as warmth spread through your stomach and you rushed out a pitchy, “Fuck, George, I’m cumming!” 

He held you upright in his arms as you came around him, your moans and cries echoing through the shower, as he fucked you through it as your pussy clenched down on him so hard he nearly stumbled. He followed seconds later, shooting thick shots of cum deep inside you with loud groans let out against your neck, his hands gripping your body wherever he could reach. You breathed heavily, your muscles pulsing around him to accept him all as his dick twitched inside you with each messy spurt. 

“I love you.” you whimpered out, eyes falling closed as he kissed your neck through the tapering off of your orgasms. 

“Mm,” George smiled against your wet skin and he gave your hips a little squeeze, “I love you.” 

You leaned your head back against his shoulder and led his lips to yours for a proper kiss, staying there for a few more seconds just to savour the moment. The running shower swallowed the sounds of your kisses and washed away the thick white cream that dripped out of you as he pulled out. But he dropped to his knees behind you and spread your ass in his large hands and leaned in to lick up the mess that was leaking out of you. 

Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, pressing your hands against the glass to keep yourself upright as he licked and sucked over your aching and sensitive pussy to help clean you up. He wasn’t there for too long and he sat back to spank you hard and then massaged your flesh with his snug grip. George left a few kisses over your thighs and ass and hips as he stood and then went back for your neck. 

You hummed through your pleasant smile, leaning your head to the side to give him room as his arms snaked around your waist and he swayed you side to side ever so gently. His gentle kisses on your neck felt like heaven and you couldn’t dream of ever leaving his embrace. He smiled gently against your wet skin and rubbed his hands over your stomach lovingly. 

“Let me wash you up.” George whispered. 

You let him pull you over into the stream of the shower, the water still perfectly warm, and you didn’t stray too far from his arms as he reached for the shampoo bottle. The water poured over you both, along your shoulders and down between your bare bodies pressed chest to chest. You couldn’t stop staring at him with your arms around his waist, sharing a smile as he lathered his hands in shampoo and rubbed them into your hair, scratching perfectly over your scalp. His lips pushed onto yours in little gentle kisses as you took the shampoo bottle yourself and slid your own soaped up hands into his brown hair. You shared little smiles between kisses, letting the warm water rinse the suds from your skin and out of your hair and tried not to get soap in your eyes. 

The shower was your haven for the good side of a half hour and when you had washed each other clean of massage oil and plentiful bodily fluids, the feeling of domesticity was thudding in your heart. George turned off the water and grabbed you each a towel from the small bench just outside the shower and you dried off and redressed into your robes. 

For the remainder of the day, you relaxed by the resort pool with bottomless tropical drinks and perfectly hot temperatures. You in your strapless bikini and George in his swim shorts, you laid side by side on the beach chairs and tanned in the afternoon sun, proudly ignorant to the hickeys that littered both of your bodies. No one would give you strange looks anyway; certainly not on Fantasy Island. You were there to live your absolute best life, no matter what that was defined by. It also meant you didn’t get a sunburn no matter how long you laid out in the direct sunlight, returning into the resort hand in hand for dinner with matching perfect tanned glows. 

On Sunday, the final day, you felt as though you were set for life. This was it, wasn’t it? Him and you forever in paradise? The booked flight set for the next day or the entire reason why you needed to get away in the first place seemed to be the last thing on your mind. Making love to George all over the island seemed to have that effect on you and waking up to his sleepy peaceful face just made it all even better. He knew how to touch you to forget all of your stresses and all of your worries.

And the morning hike around the forestry and the hills of the small island certainly kept you distracted too. George thrived like that, wearing only shorts and his sneakers as the guide led you both through the trees and up steep terrain to see all that the island had to offer. It was a beautiful slice of paradise, that was for sure, but your eyes stayed drawn to the man sticking by your side and how his toned muscles were slick in a thin layer of sweat from the heat. He didn’t complain once when you slid your hand into his, even when the path got thin and he had to hold his arm behind him to keep your grip. 

Lunch was had as a picnic on the top of the island with a scenic view of the crystal blue ocean all around. It was truly picturesque and with your legs dangling off the side of the mountain top side by side with George, you were sure there was nothing better. He told you so too as he kissed you sweetly and held you close while you admired the view. 

By the time you returned to the resort, it was time to clean up for dinner. You shared the shower in your room - strictly to wash this time however - and then picked out the nicest clothes you had with you to wear. In a floor length thin summer dress, you felt like an island princess. Your prince wore khaki shorts and a white button up tucked into the waistband and when he came up behind you in the bathroom mirror, he set a thin crown of white tropical flowers over your hair. He wore a matching flower tucked in the pocket of his shirt. 

The sun wasn’t quite set when you reached the restaurant hand in hand and it cast a lovely yellow-orange glow over the island and George’s smiling face as he held the door open for you. You ate at a table for two overlooking the ocean, sharing a bottle of wine and then a dessert after a satisfying meal, and held hands over the table as often as you could. People might have thought you were honeymooners. 

As the sun set, you found yourself walking along the shore together, strolling quietly and admiring the gentle rush of waves on the sand and the warm tones of the evening sky. George’s hand was snug in yours, a place where he seemed to fit so perfectly, although his gaze was focused out over the water. You were staring at him, absorbing the line of his jaw and the volume of his hair and the way you could nearly see the setting sun reflected in his sparkling eyes. 

You fell to a stop, your hand in his urging him to stop too and he turned to face you.

“What is it?” he asked. 

You smiled, welcoming him closer and your hand that wasn’t in his slid up his chest and to the side of his neck, “Nothing. I just wanted to look at you.” 

George didn’t reply. Instead, he leaned in to kiss your lips ever so gently. Once, twice, and a third time that lingered a little longer than the prior two. 

Before he could pull away, you pulled him back in for more, draping your arms around his shoulders and his snaked around your waist. To the sound of the ocean waves, you kissed the sun down, not a soul in sight on the long stretch of empty beach. Your bodies were pressed together as if never wanting to be separated and you shared sweet tongueless kisses on the sand. 

Finally, when George managed to escape your lips, he turned just behind him and you followed his gaze. There was a small set-up that you hadn’t noticed before; a small group of blankets and pillows laid out neatly on the sand under a little white mesh canopy and framed in fairy lights. The small wooden table held a fresh pitcher of water and two glasses each with a slice of lemon on the sides and a plate of fresh fruit. Fantasy Island always delivered when you least expected it.

“How romantic.” you said sweetly, cuddling into his side as his arm draped around your body. 

George looked back at you and dipped down for a few more kisses, raising his hand to your jaw to keep you there a moment longer. When he pulled away, he brushed his nose over yours and whispered, “I think we should go for a swim first.”

“With what bathing suits?” you laughed lightly. 

George only stepped back from you just enough to untuck his shirt from his shorts and started to unbutton it. You watched him silently as he took another step back towards the ocean and then another, finally pulling his shirt from his shoulders and tossed it haphazardly in the direction of the blankets. 

“We don’t need any.” he answered as he walked backwards ever so slowly towards the ocean, his hands unbuckling his belt and then unzipping his pants. He paused just long enough to push them down, right along with his boxers, and your cheeks flushed pink at the sight of him bare in the setting sun and darkening sky. His clothes made a messy pile beside the small table from where he had thrown them and he curled his finger in your direction to get you to follow as he waded backwards into the lapping waves. 

You glanced down the beach, left and right, to make sure there was really no one in sight. It nearly appeared that the island was vacant except for the two of you. Silent, dim, and empty. You pulled your dress over your head before you could second guess, dropped your panties and unclipped your bra, and hurried after him into the water. 

The silent island welcomed the sudden splash of waves as you both waded ungracefully into the water, sharing excited laughter as your arms reached for each other. You grabbed onto his forearms and tried to lean in for a kiss as you both moved deeper into the warm ocean, but George stumbled over his feet and fell backwards, pulling you down into the water with him in a huge splash. 

You broke the surface again and burst into shared laughter, still thrown on top of him in the waving sea. His hand pushed your wet hair from your face and let your laughter melt away on your lips as your eyes met through the moonlight. 

George pulled you in first by the back of your head, kissing you strongly as you were mostly submerged in the salt water. His other hand held himself up on the sandy bottom of the shallow water and your legs stayed tangled with his in the same messy position you had fallen into. Your kisses were messy through your smiles and made a bit wetter by the salt water that splashed around you, but it was nothing less than perfect. 

You set your hand on his chest and pulled back from your kiss just long enough to say, “We should get away from the shore a bit more.” 

George only leaned in to nibble teasingly at your bottom lip before you were shuffling up again and wading deeper into the ocean hand in hand. When the warm water reached your chests, he scooped you right up into his arms by your thighs and moved in for more kisses. Under the water, your legs wrapped around his body with ease and your arms draped around his shoulders to cradle his head in your hands and kept his mouth on yours. The waves, stained in the faintest orange tones from the sun just peeking over the horizon, splashed around the two of you like you were two pieces of a single marble statue, breaking against your bare skin and spraying gentle specks of salt water over your faces and into your hair. 

George felt warm. Despite the humid tropical weather and the just as pleasant ocean you were in, the warmth of his body felt almost refreshing and comforting. He was warm and living and yours. His large hands slid up your back, letting you float in front of him in the water as his hands traced your body and up into the roots of your hair. 

He inhaled into your kiss as if to breathe you in and you felt his chest push against yours before falling again. You tilted your head to the side to kiss him deeper, your damp hair tumbling over one shoulder as your lips locked in slow passionate kisses. George moaned softly into your mouth, just as both of you pushed out your tongues. They met between your kisses and you shared soft laughter at how in sync you were, but didn’t waste a single second that was to be spent embraced in a kiss. 

You shuffled slightly, shifting your legs more comfortably around his waist in the warm salt water and just enough to dip your hips down to graze against his dick. He was still mostly soft but the touch of the curve of your ass had him sighing deeply into your mouth and his dick twitched ever so slightly underwater. You linked your ankles together behind his back and reached a hand down to wrap around his length, lazily stroking with barely your fingertips as your kiss continued above water. 

George’s hand slid from your hair along your neck and right around to your throat where he squeezed gently, urging you to gasp softly into his mouth. His teeth sunk down into your bottom lip and he soothed it with a lick before he moved his kisses down your neck and his hand dropped lower to your bare chest. He greedily cupped your right breast in his hand, groping it snugly as his teeth sunk into the skin of your neck and his tongue swiped up the lingering taste of salt water. 

“George.” you breathed out, letting your head fall back slightly to give him room at your neck. You blindly wrapped your hand around his dick between you, feeling him harden second by second as you stroked him slowly. 

“God, darling,” George groaned softly against your neck and he kissed right up under your ear to make you shiver, “What are you doing to me?”

“Make love to me before the sun goes down.” you requested gently, tilting his head up by his chin to kiss his lips again. 

“Right here?” George chuckled softly between kisses. 

“Mhm.” 

Your thumb swiped over the head of his dick and you traced the slit at the end lazily back and forth as your eyes locked in your close proximity through the rising night. His breath shuttered in his chest and your lips met again in a few lingering kisses as he kneaded your breast for a moment and then slipped his hand under the water. You kissed lazily as you touched each other, gentle fingers rubbing and stroking and finding the familiarity in each other’s bodies once again. 

George moved down your neck, kissing and sucking over your skin as you let your gaze drift back towards the beach. You did a quick scan to make sure there was no one else around, although Fantasy Island was a place that always seemed to anticipate your next moves. The beach was completely vacant. 

By only the light of the sliver of sun and away from the luminescent glow of the resort in the distance, it was hard to see much apart from each other’s faces and certainly nothing under the water. You moved blindly together as George steadied his feet on the sandy ocean floor and you moved to carefully angle yourself right against the tip of his dick. His hands gripped onto your waist and he almost pulled you down on him, smothering your sweet gasp with his lips on yours as you sheathed around him so perfectly. 

“Oh my God, George.” you breathed, rising your hand against his chest quickly when you bottomed out. 

The sea water made for a bit more friction between you as it tended to wash away that natural lubrication but that didn’t matter; it still somehow felt more than incredible. He felt more than incredible. 

George’s low groan was heavenly and you pulled his lips on yours by the back of his neck. You shared a few sloppy kisses before your heels pressed into his bum to urge him deeper and your hips ground down strongly on him. He pulled a hand from the water to grab your breast again, squeezing your flesh to let his mouth dip down to wrap around your nipple as his hips pushed back against yours. 

“Fuck.” you breathed out, your head falling back as your hands gripped tightly to the back of his head and tangled in his wet hair. He sucked on your breast and formed beautiful little love bites over your flesh as his free hand was held around your waist and was grinding you down in time with him. 

The sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, setting the beach into near darkness apart from the rising moonlight and the haze of light from the distant resort. It was quiet and serene and filled you with an indescribable warmth. The waves only got slightly larger as you tried to rock yourself on him, rubbing your bodies together ungracefully in the ocean water. 

“Give me your legs.” George whispered, shifting slightly to hook your knees over his arms and his hands found your waist again. 

You kept yourself steady with your hands on the back of his neck, staring down into the blackness of the water surrounding you as he lifted you up slightly and then eased you back down on his cock. The trembling whimper that fell from your mouth was his praise enough and he repeated the same action slowly, letting his hips push forward to meet you halfway each time. 

“God, my love, you feel so good.” George breathed between you. 

You rested your forehead against his gently, “Don’t ever pull out.” 

He chuckled lightly, “No way, beautiful.” 

Your fingers tugged gently at the hair at the nape of his neck, “Ever.”

“Ever.” George agreed easily, nudging his nose against yours to kiss you properly. 

The moan you let out into his mouth had him fucking you a little faster, bouncing you on his dick the best he could in chest-deep salt water in time with the messy thrusts of his hips. Your tongues met and lips clashed and you shared shallow breaths and pleasant moans together as the waves crashed around you. 

The moon rose over the horizon, pairing beautifully with the star speckled sky that reflected into the dark nighttime ocean you found yourself in. The stars fluttered and danced over the waves that rocked around the two of you and they sparkled in George’s eyes when he looked at you so close that you could feel his breath on your cheek. Your lips grazed, sharing feather soft kisses in your distraction, and your fingers scratched lovingly through the back of his hair. 

George slid his hands down to your bum and pulled you down all the way, groaning softly against your lips as he rocked your body against his in strong curling motions. You sighed shakily, focusing on the feeling of his thick cock buried so deep inside you it was nearly heaven but the friction from the water seemed to be a bit of a hindrance of getting you any closer. You clung onto him tightly, trying to get more out of it as you rocked your body against his in time with his thrusts. It felt good but you wanted more. 

George’s lips found yours again and you kissed passionately as he guided your motions with ease in the water. You slid your hand down between you and tugged lazy circles over your clit, whimpering pleadingly into his mouth for more. But he took your hand out of the water and pulled you closer, letting you rut up against his body instead. 

“Use me.” he instructed softly. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face in his neck as he fucked you slowly and let you rub against his abs with each thrust. You could only go faster, whimpering against his salty skin as you were nearly humping his body amidst the waves, desperate to edge yourself on and to get closer to that release. George’s hands groped your ass and bounced you faster on his dick, breathing hard against your shoulder and let out a trembling groan as you clenched down around him. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he moaned, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Not yet.” you whined softly. 

“Just trust me.” George said sweetly against your ear. “I’m not going to forget about you, okay? Trust me.”

You only nodded, pulling his lips back on yours for more kisses. George was nearly using you, grinding up into you in steady strokes that had him groaning into your mouth in time. The water splashed around you more as he sped up, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he gripped your ass tighter and pushed on harder. 

“Fuck.” George said through his teeth, his dick throbbing inside you. 

You were so focused on it and his lips that you barely noticed him starting to move until your chest emerged from the warm water. He was walking you back towards shore, still trying to fuck you through each step with his hands on your bum and his hips pushing desperately into yours. Once he reached calf deep water, he eased you down onto your back against the wet sand, keeping your legs hooked over his arms to leave you spread as he stayed nice and deep inside you. 

“Okay?” he asked breathlessly.

You nodded him on, holding onto his biceps as he started to thrust into you again, taking you on the beach as the shallow water rushed around you in steady waves. His moans were beautiful, his forehead resting against yours as his hips did all the work, causing splashes of water and slick smacking of skin on skin to rise across the silent beach. 

“Shit, baby.” you cried out softly, digging your nails into his arms. “Don’t stop.” 

George let his eyes find yours, keeping your strong eye contact as he fucked you quickly on the tropical shore under a blanket of stars. The sand didn’t stick to you and in fact it didn’t feel itchy at all. Fantasy Island was full of perfected versions of things and the white sand beaches that cradled your body in the tide was no different. George dipped down to kiss you a few times through his quick thrusts but pulled back to breathe, licking his lips as he stared down at you. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby.” he warned softly, his voice wavering, “I’m gonna cum so fucking deep inside you.”

“Yeah. Please.” you whimpered, welcoming his body on yours as he shifted down to his forearms on the sand on either side of your head. “Oh my God, George, come inside me. Please.” 

“Yeah-” he groaned, going faster and faster and faster until his jagged breaths were falling still and his eyes were nearly rolling back in his head. “F-Fuck me-”

Your hands dropped to his waist and you tugged his body towards you so he was inside you as deep as he could possibly go, your mouth falling open as he shot thick spurts of cum right into you. It wasn’t the first time but it certainly felt just as good as ever, your own pleasant moans tumbling from your lips as he claimed you through shaky groans and little grunts, rolling his body into yours to really finish himself off. 

“Oh, God, baby.” George whimpered. 

He leaned down to kiss you right away, capturing your bottom lip between his two for a few strong kisses before he was moving down your neck. The tide splashed shallowly around your bare body as George pulled out of you and easily slid down your body with hungry kisses to land between your legs. He nudged them open a bit farther and watched as the water splashed up against your thighs and the curve of your ass and the moonlight glinted off the thick white cream that trickled out of your cunt. George licked his lips and dived right in, showering you in kisses over your folds before he was licking up the reminisce of his love making. 

Your hands found his hair to hold his face between your legs as he worked to finish you off next, the initial sensations already being enough to let your head drop back against the wet sand beneath you with a soft moan. His lips found your clit and he gave perfect attention to your most sensitive spot, shooting blissful ecstasy down your limbs as he kissed over it before sucking softly through his own pleasant moans. 

“Fuck, George.” you breathed his name to the tropical night sky.

The island felt as though it was echoing your moans and his hungry slurps and wet kisses across the water and through the trees, the emptiness of the land around you made the place feel like your very own private oasis. His tongue on your clit dampened you more after the ocean had tried to leave you clean and he took his opportunity to slick his fingers in your arousal and the sticky mess of cum he claimed you in, and pushed two digits inside you. 

Your trembling “oh” fell from your lips shakily, your breath shuttering in your chest as he pumped them into you steadily and his tongue swirled lazily over your clit. 

George’s eyes raised to yours as he fingered you tenderly and tasted the salt water on your warm skin behind the sweet flavour of your body. He was a beautiful sight between your legs, bare like the essence of man and stained in sea water that splashed up around him in small choppy waves and circled your body in the aftermath. You were one. He was yours. He was all yours in the light of the moon and the glow from the small camping set up left a few metres up the beach. 

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, George-“ you sobbed out, trying to keep your legs back from encircling his head. “Faster.”

He followed your orders, fingering his cum back into you in quick thrusts before he was shoving his fingers deep and flicking them eagerly against your slick walls. His tongue picked up too, rubbing quickly over your clit until you were nearly soaked in spit as much as ocean water. 

“Yeah.” you whimpered, only growing in volume as he kept up, “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah, baby, yeah, baby- please don’t stop, I’m gonna cum!” 

George nuzzled his face deeper into your cunt, devouring you until you were seeing stars in more than just the night sky above you. Your moans were turning insistent and loud and you tugged at his hair harder, trying to rub up against his face. 

“Oh my-“ your voice fell quiet as that warm tightness in your lower stomach was starting to burst. Your muscles clenched down hard around his fingers and George kept his pace going until your back was arching off the sand and shallow water with an ever so quiet whimper, “Oh, s-sir-“ 

If he hadn’t already came, that title certainly would have finished him off and he moaned loudly against your body as you writhed underneath him and soaked his fingers in your liquids. Your whimpering carried across the waves and the sand and he lapped up every drop until you were pushing his head away with over sensitivity. George kissed your hip and then shuffled up over top of you to kiss your lips. Your arms draped around his shoulders and you tasted yourself on his tongue along with the salt water that was left behind from the ocean. 

“You’re perfect.” George whispered between slow kisses. “You’re so fucking perfect, sweetheart.” 

You took his face in your hands and caressed his cheeks, staring up into his blue eyes that sparkled with the fairy lights up the beach and you told him an honest, “I love you.” 

George smiled and dipped down to kiss you once more, “I love you more.”

A slight chill brushed over you and you shivered in the open air, pulling George closer. 

“Are you cold, baby?” he asked gently against your ear, petting his hand over your head.  

“Just a bit.” you shrugged, rubbing your hands up his bare back. 

“Come on.” George shifted off your body and helped you to your feet with his hands in yours. 

You hurried back up the beach together in your nakedness, trying to cover yourself up the best you could in fear someone was to stumble upon you. But the beach was empty and you were perfectly alone, giving you all the space you needed to settle on the soft pile of blankets and pillows together to dry off. The sand never stuck to your wet skin which was incredible and you patted yourself dry before shuffling into your dress again, leaving your bra and panties to the side. George pulled on his shorts once he had dried off and then joined you under the small canopy of lights. 

Out of the water, the tropical air felt much warmer once again and even without the sun, it was pleasant and comfortable. George arranged the pillows a little to lean back on and he gently pulled you down with him to cuddle up at his side, his arm around your shoulders. His bare torso was claimed by your hand, fingers dancing over his abs and along his pecs. 

George watched you stare at him, his fingers tangling in the ends of your damp hair lazily, and he breathed steadily and peacefully in the tropical night. He leaned down slightly to kiss the top of your head and when you looked up at his face and pushed another kiss to his waiting lips, it sort of sunk in that it was your last night on the island. You frowned to yourself and snuggled closer to him, resting your head on his chest as your arm hugged his body close. 

“I love you.” you whispered. 

“I love you, my beautiful, stunning, incredibly gorgeous woman.” George replied sweetly, rubbing his hand up your arm that was around his middle. He kissed your head again. 

“Georgie.” you breathed. 

He hummed in reply, letting you continue. 

“I don’t want to go home tomorrow. I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

“Don’t think about that right now.” George tisked, stroking your hair away from your face. “We still have all night.” 

“I can’t help it.” you mumbled. 

He moved his arm as you shifted up to look down at him laying beside you and he draped it under his head, staring worriedly back at you from your obvious uncertainty. Your heart had that familiar ache back, that same ache that you came to the island to cure in the first place. The fact that it was still there made you even more upset and you looked away from him and across the beach with a shaky inhale. 

George spoke your name softly, reaching up to gently turn your head back towards him by a finger under your chin, “Talk to me then, sweetheart.”

“I want to live forever with you.” you spoke as strongly as you could, letting your thoughts fall into the night air, “I want to marry you and have babies with you and live life with you.”

“God, my love, I want that too. So badly.” George whispered, caressing your face in his hand and he swiped his thumb over your cheek. “We’d have such pretty kids too, don’t you think?”

Your bottom lip trembled and you scrunched your eyes closed with a bow of your head to keep him from seeing your emotion.

George tisked sadly and sat up a little, lifting your head in his hands so you were looking at him and his thumbs brushed the few stray tear drops from your cheeks, “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“I’ve been waiting so long for this...to tell you that I am in love with you...that you are my other half and all my perfect dreams rolled into one stunning man…” you set your hand against his bare chest with a shaky sigh. 

“Baby, I’m not perfect.” George chuckled gently. 

“To me you are.” you whispered. 

He leaned up to kiss your lips softly, ever so gently, sharing a few small chasté kisses as his hand looped around the back of your neck. When you pulled back from his lips, you rested your forehead against his and you both sighed softly in unison. 

“My heart beats for you.” you breathed, taking his free hand from the blankets to rest against your chest over your thin dress. 

George smiled softly at the feeling of your strong heartbeat under his hand and he wrapped his arm farther around your shoulders for a closer hug. You nuzzled your face into his neck and with the hand that wasn’t holding yourself up on the ground, tucked it around his back. 

“I don’t want you to go either.” George finally whispered, his voice barely audible over the rush of the waves crashing upon the shore nearby. 

You held him tighter as if never wanting to let him go, shifting to hold him with both arms and you let out another sob into his shoulder. His hands rubbed up and down your back and he shushed you lovingly, holding you as you cried. You didn’t care who heard you, letting your sorrow echo down the empty beach and over the dark ocean to the ends of the island. 

George’s bare skin was warm and addicting and you held him close as if savouring each inch of his body for any future reference. Your tears dripped onto his shoulder and your sobs muffled into his neck, shameless crying out your emotions to the person you wanted more than life itself. 

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart.” George whispered, his voice wavering. 

“Don’t let me go, Georgie.” you begged. 

“Darling.” George sighed, holding you tighter. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m right here.” 

“Are you real?” you asked softly, repeating the very first question you asked him when you walked in on him sitting on that cloud-like king size bed. You sat back on your knees and took his face in your hands as if to analyze him, from the line of his jaw to the tears shimmering in his blue eyes. “Are you really you?”

“Yeah, baby.” George whispered. “But...tomorrow...when you get on that plane...I’ll be back in Monaco and I won’t have any memory of this. At all. I will wake up at home and think that I was just in the city the whole weekend with memories they gave me to fill in the gaps.”

You sniffled as he took your hands from his face and kissed your knuckles one by one as you breathed out a shaky, “You won’t remember me?”

He shook his head. 

“You won’t remember this island or making love all afternoon and all night?”

George left your hands with one more kiss as he smiled sadly and raised his eyes up to yours, “None of it.” 

Your nose scrunched up in near agony and you couldn’t help but press a hand to your heart as if to try and dull the pain. You rested your forehead against his and he held your one hand in both of his as if he never was going to let you go. You had twelve hours left together but it didn’t feel like enough. Time was slipping by like sand in an hourglass. 

“Listen,” George leaned back from you to meet your teary gaze, “let’s have some water and just...cuddle quietly for a bit. It’s beautiful out here.”

You nodded weakly and wiped your eyes with the heel of your palm as he shuffled down the blankets towards the small wooden table. He lifted the water pitcher, only to reveal a small pot of ink topped with a thin silver sewing needle. You moved to sit properly on the blankets as George grabbed the two newly appeared items from the table and stared at them for a moment. He looked over at you. 

“What is that?” you asked quietly. 

You could nearly see his brain turning with thoughts, his eyebrows furrowed in the cutest little expression as he pieced together the two small items in his hands. Finally, he disregarded the water and he hurried to sit at your side once more. 

“Photographs and notes don’t work.” George explained quietly as if someone on the empty beach would be listening into your conversation, “They both will go blank the second you leave the island, right?”

“Right.” you listened quietly. 

“But they can’t erase something that is permanently part of someone.”

“I dunno...they made lingerie randomly appear on me.” you mumbled. 

George laughed lightly and shifted to sit crossed legged, “Clothes aren’t permanent.” 

“What are you doing?” you asked cautiously.  

George set the end of the needle between his lips so he could unscrew the cap of the ink bottle. He carefully took the needle in his fingers once more and then held it in the flame of the candle to disinfect it, “I’m going to tattoo your name on my body so I can force myself to remember you.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat as you stared into his eyes through the warm faded light of the fairy lights surrounding you, “What? Are you sure that’s gonna work?”

“Worth a shot.” he shrugged. He dipped the sharp point of the needle into the black ink. 

“What if it doesn’t?” you mumbled, watching carefully as he shifted across from you and pulled his right foot onto his opposite thigh over crossed legs. 

George glanced back up at you with an honest smile, “Then you better be damn good at convincing me.” 

“George…” you started but he already pressed the tip of the sewing needle into the skin of his ankle. Your eyes widened as you fell into silence and he spelt the first letter of your name with a steady hand and a few dips of ink. 

It was honestly as romantic as it was slightly stupid. The lines were a little wobbly and his cheeks were flushed pink as his teeth bit hard into his bottom lip through the sharp pain of the stick and poke tattoo he was giving himself. 

“When you get on the plane tomorrow-” George hissed softly as the needle poked a nerve but he carried on, “you’re going to ask the pilot to take you to the airport in Nice.”

“George...I dunno…”

“Hey,” he looked up at you seriously, “don’t George me, okay? Do you want me? Did you mean that? That you’re in love with me and you want me for life?”

“Of course.” you answered easily. 

“Good because it’s too late now...I already have half your name inked into the side of my foot.” George said, wiping the excess ink and bit of blood off his lower ankle with the edge of one of the blankets you were sitting on. Two full letters were pressed ungracefully into his skin. 

You smiled softly at him and he returned it as both of you leaned in for a few gentle kisses. He told you he loved you in a whisper as quiet as the tropical breeze ruffling through the starry night and you said the same, kissing him once more before he focused back on his task at hand. 

“When you get to Monaco…” George continued as he worked, his words a little strained at the pain he was injecting into his body, “you’re going to find the café that’s directly across from the Casino…I go there every morning for breakfast. Got that?”

You nodded. 

“You’re going to wait for me there.”

“What if I miss you?”

“Find a hotel and try again the next morning.” 

“What if she’s with you?”

There was a pause and George glanced up at you before dropping his head back down quickly to his ankle, “She won’t be.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t want to think about her right now, sweetheart.” George protested gently yet firmly, “Especially not when I have you here.” 

“What if you won’t leave her for me? What if you don’t remember and this doesn’t work and you won’t believe me when I try to convince you-”

George reached out for you quickly, “Baby, baby, baby, baby, stop.”

You took a shaky inhale, “Georgie, I can’t go through that rejection to my face. Through a screen kills me enough, I…I can’t.”

“Stop. Listen to me, okay? Listen.” George held the needle carefully in his right hand and slid his left up to hold the side of your face. “You’re the only one I want. You’re the only one I feel such a connection with. You’re the only one I’ve fucked unprotected.”

The both of you shared soft chuckles. 

He spoke strongly, “You are mine.” 

“But are you mine?” you tried. 

“Yes.” George said straightly. “I’m yours. My heart is yours.”

You nodded and he sent you a tight smile before turning back to the ink pot and his stained skin. The ocean breeze ruffled through his messy brown hair and you took that quiet moment to admire him in the light from the string of lights that twisted together above your heads. 

You spoke without thinking, “I want this to work.” 

“I know. Me too.”

“I want this to work so badly I might cry.” 

George glanced up at you and your nervous expression and he smiled sweetly, “No more crying, darling, look.” 

You followed his gaze back down to his ankle that presented the uneven inked lines spelling your first name across his skin. He wiped it clean with the edge of the blanket and raised his foot up as he doubled over to blow a soft puff of air over it, nearly falling over in the process. 

“You’re a part of me now.” he whispered, his gentle voice carried by the tropical breeze. 

“I love you.” you breathed. “You’re insane.”

He raised his eyes from the fresh tattoo to your face and he leaned in to kiss you softly, “I love you too.”

You spent the night on the beach, cuddled up in the set up island of blankets and pillows on the sand. You slept in each other’s arms until the fairy lights burnt out and the moon set and tide turned and you woke up to a beautiful sunrise. You didn’t question how the sun could both rise and set over the same horizon since on Fantasy Island even the craziest things seemed to be made into reality. If only it was at all easy. 

George let your head rest on his chest as the sun came up, his hand twirling through the ends of your hair as he laid back on the pillows and you laid with him. As the day rose and the chirp of animals and birds filled the beach, you let your eyes close once more to focus all your senses on the man in your arms. You inhaled him strongly, savouring his soft natural scent with the ever slight lingerance of his evening cologne and the remanence of salt water. 

He kissed you good morning, letting you taste his lips and his tongue as much as you wanted between slow sensual kisses as his hands gripped your body closer. You kissed the sun awake until it was well above the horizon and it was time to return to your room. 

Step by slow step back to the resort was painful and you held George’s hand tightly the whole way. He had pulled his shirt back on from the night before and it hung open off his shoulders, still giving you a perfect view of his abs that you teasingly ran your finger across as he unlocked your hotel room door. 

Your suitcase was already packed and waiting by the door when you stepped inside and you took one last look at the room in which you met. George’s arm slid around your waist and he kissed your neck from behind, swaying you slightly in place and you both seemed to stare dreamily at the king size bed as if it were calling you back. The sheets were pulled tight, unslept in, since you spent the night on the beach and they were taunting you to come ruin them. 

As if to interrupt your forming ideas, the host of the island appeared in the doorway and greeted you politely to usher you to the plane. George took your hand and you grabbed your suitcase in your other and you trailed behind her as she led the way to the dock. When she wasn’t looking, too busy greeting the pilot, George lifted his right foot up slightly to show off the small black ink tattoo of your name still on his ankle. You smiled at him and he raised your joint hands to his mouth to kiss yours sweetly. 

The pilot took your bag for you to load into the plane and you were permitted a moment to say your goodbyes. 

You turned to George and both of your hands fell into each other’s, your eyes meeting in the bright sunlight that warmed the island like the very same day you arrived there. He smiled at you, his expression obviously hesitant, and you mirrored his attempt at a grin back. 

“I love you.” you whispered, taking your hands from his to wrap around his shoulders. 

George let out a sigh and snaked his arms snugly around your waist, “I love you too. So much. Don’t forget that.”

You nodded and slowly slid back from his embrace, pausing just long enough to share a kiss. Or three. You rested your foreheads together with soft sighs and your eyes closed for just a moment as if to savour your last few seconds together. It could very well be your last time. 

“I’ll wait for you.” you breathed. 

George nodded and brushed your noses together, “Okay.”

You dusted your lips over his and you both opened up ever so slightly and ever so slowly for one last kiss. You felt the warmth running through you, shooting near electricity down your spine until your lips broke apart with a soft smack. With a gentle lick, you tried to memorize the taste of each other for one last second before you were being ushered down the dock. 

George stuffed his hands in the pockets of his shorts and stood with the host as you boarded the biplane and found your seat. The pilot closed the door and buckled up and started the engine. The propellers whirled to life and he glanced back at you, 

“Where are we headed, ma’am?”

You looked out the window of the plane, catching a last glimpse of George who stood on the end of the dock with the host. The wind from the plane propellers ruffled his hair and his eyes squinted in the bright sunlight but he smiled and raised his hand in a last wave as the plane pulled off across the water. 

“Nice, France.” 

You sat in the corner of the coffee shop, suitcase at your side, and gaze unwavering from the glass entry doors across the brown trimmed café. There was no food or beverage in front of you since you were far less than hungry; your stomach churned with anxieties from landing in a strange city for the farthest stretch of a chance you could take. It all felt ridiculous. You felt foolish. None of this had to be real. 

Finally, through the front windows, you saw a white convertible Mercedes pull into the parking lot and instantly your heart was in your throat. From the distance, you could just make out the figure of the man as he parked the car, donning sunglasses and a soft styled mess of brown hair, and your stomach erupted in butterflies. He looked just as perfect as he had on the island but the scattering of hickeys down his neck were missing and the sunkissed tan was more faded as if he had never been there. Your eyes followed him as he hurried across the parking lot and into the shop where you sat. He was alone. 

He didn’t notice you - you were now a stranger after all - and you let yourself have a moment in the background to admire him. He wore another white button up tucked into creased slacks, looking so effortlessly stylish. The designer watch was a given and the near noon-day sunlight glinted off the silver fastenings as he approached the counter. 

You were too far away to hear him order but you made out some sort of breakfast sandwich and a drink amidst the café radio music playing through the speakers and the chatter that surrounded the small sitting area. When he pulled out his credit card and waited for the machine to prompt his payment, he haphazardly bent down slightly, raised his right foot, and scratched at his ankle with a confused scowl. A blur of black was caught by your eye before it disappeared under his pant leg again as he sighed and stood up straighter once more, raking his fingers through his hair in near tired confusion. 

You stood before you could second guess, taking a hesitant step towards him as he tucked his card back in his wallet. He didn’t notice you. No one else did either. 

“George.” 

Your own voice startled you, especially with how wavering and unsure it was...how nervous you sounded. It would be easy to pass as an adoring teenager like that. 

His eyes raised to yours at the call of his name and his gaze alone sent those perfect shivers down your body. He seemed to give you a once over as you took another step closer as if he was trying to place where he had seen you before. 

“George...I…” you struggled to find the words, as if the long plane ride had not been filled with you making up scripts in your mind as to what you would say to him in this moment. His confused expression made you nervous and you could feel the tears of disappointment and frustration already brimming in your eyes. You could only gesture haphazardly to his right pant leg before you were at a loss for words. 

He slid his wallet into his pocket, face full of confusion, and followed your quick gesture to his right ankle. The random appearance of that messy blank ink tattoo had startled him that morning and he looked back up at you slowly, eyebrows furrowed gently in the middle as to how you knew it was there. This stranger in a coffee shop. 

He breathed your name in the form of a question; the same name that had been inked into his skin at a time he didn’t remember. The blessing of your name from his lips felt like the warmth of that familiar tropical breeze and the memories of your fantasy weekend together seemed to flick like pages of a storybook between you. 

You could nearly see his features soften with his realization and you let a gentle smile tug at your lips, your voice a breath of relief, “George.”

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It’s only been a handful of months since Esteban had to post this (and from my memory, his team did absolutely nothing to back him either when it got to this point). This sport claims a zero tolerance policy for harassing behavior on social media and then just totally leaves its drivers out on their own when it happens. It’s shameful.