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The club was a mess of sweaty, writhing bodies and stuttering strobe lights. You had tried to stick close to Lando when you first arrived, considering you were relatively new to the Monaco club scene. However, as the night progressed, you found yourself less and less concerned about where your boyfriend was. You hadn’t seen him in at least an hour. It wasn’t like you had purposely distanced yourself from him– it just happened naturally.
You were currently dancing with a few girls that looked around your age, your group parked near the DJ booth. Your hair whipped around wildly as you danced. A few strands were even stuck to your face. Sweat dripped down your back and temples– despite what little clothing you were wearing. Lando had picked out the epitome of a “little black dress” for you to wear, and your papaya-coloured heels made for the perfect contrast. Sue you for trying to promote his brand. The dress had yet to behave tonight, its hem constantly riding up your thighs.
The music continued to pound against your skull, but you couldn’t care less. You were having the time of your life– your heart bumping in time with the beat. Though, now that you thought about it, you were parched. You gestured a drinking motion to the girls you were with and headed towards the bar. You’d probably find them later.
The heat was a little less intense outside of the crowd, but the lights and smoke still made you unsteady on your feet. You reached the bar with some effort and gripped its edge for support. Your hands felt clammy against the plaster. The bartender looked at you with a silent request for your order.
“Vodka soda, please,” even your own voice made your head hurt. The bartender nodded and began to fill a glass with your preferred vodka.
You watched him non-committedly, half swaying your hips to the music, half leaning on the bar to balance. The drinks already in your system had pleasantly dulled your awareness… which is probably why it was so easy for him to get behind you. Two unfamiliar hands suddenly clasped your waist, and his sweaty palms matted the fabric of your dress.
Immediately on alert, you spun around to face your assailant. It was an unattractive man in his thirties. His head was tilted to the side drunkenly, and his smirk made your stomach roll unpleasantly. He leaned in so close you could smell his sour breath. Your nose scrunched in disgust.
“Hey there, pretty lady…” his words slurred together. “You here all by yourself?”
You rolled your shoulders and tried to twist out of his grasp. Now not as concerned with your drink, you attempted to slide away. The problem was, this damn bar was so crowded there was nowhere for you to go.
“Don’t be so shy now, lady. You’re asking for it with that dress of yours.”
That had you pissed. Your boyfriend had picked this out for you, you prick.
“Not interested, man. Shove off,” your tone was clipped and left no room for argument.
Except, this idiot apparently didn’t understand the word “no.” His hands began to migrate towards your ass, and you were getting ready to smack the shit out of him. Your shoulders tensed, your right arm reared back, but before you could land a hit, the man was yanked backwards with force.
He stumbled for a second, not quite sure what had just happened. You actually didn’t know either. Until your eyes landed on a certain curly-haired man, and he looked pissed. Lando stood between you and the man, his chest puffed and arms tensed, like he was ready to strike again at a moment’s notice. He was heaving heavy breaths due to restraining his anger. It wasn’t often that the green-eyed monster reared its head with Lando, but when it did…oh boy.
“She said she wasn’t interested, mate,” you could tell the last word was forced.
The drunk man blinked a couple times, his cloudy head trying to process the rejection. It finally seemed to click when he muttered something under his breath and stalked away. Whatever he had said had Lando moving to go after him– you grabbed his wrist. Lando immediately turned to face you. His hands hurriedly cupped your cheeks, turning your head at certain angles to inspect your face.
“Are you alright, love? He didn’t touch you anywhere, did he?” Lando’s eyebrows were furrowed with worry.
Taking the time to recover, you did a once-over. Lando’s white shirt was unbuttoned almost down to the last button, his tan chest on full display. He had pushed the sleeves up to his elbows right as you had entered the club hours ago. He had chosen a simple pair of jeans, but they still hugged his hips deliciously. His curls were slightly damp from the state of the room, and you found yourself tensing your hand to keep from running it through his hair.
You faintly pondered a future where Lando tracked the man down and promptly beat him senseless, but ultimately decided to leave his unwanted ass-touching out of the conversation.
You placed your smaller hands over his, looking into his darting eyes, “I’m fine, Lan. You got here just in time. Knight in shining orange.”
He visibly relaxed at your reassurance. Something suddenly flashed in his eyes that made your stomach flip for a much different reason than before. His face hardened and he surged forward, planting a violent kiss on your lips.
You gasped into his mouth, mostly out of surprise, but also out of arousal. Like you said, Lando didn’t get jealous often. You relished it when he did.
His facial hair scratched at your soft skin as his mouth slotted against yours, the affected areas tingling with each movement. You moved to smooth your hands over his shoulders, eventually resting your arms around his neck. Lando’s hands had yet to stop wandering your body. You felt his fingers run over your sides, grip your ass, caress your bare thigh. They finally came to a stop at your waist– his grip bruising, and an exact replica of what the drunk man had been trying before. It was like he was trying to outdo the drunk, and the thought alone had your cheeks heating up.
As if he had suddenly remembered where you were, he pulled away. You heaved in breath after breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Lando matched your movements.
“Marking what’s yours, then? Feel better?” you teased lightly.
“Much better, actually. Can’t have anyone thinking you’re not spoken for, now can we?”
Your boyfriend’s words stoked the fire growing in your belly. There was something so primal about him staking claim over you. It aroused you beyond belief.
Catching a few annoyed glances from the people around you, you decided to remove yourself from the bar’s plaster. You hadn’t seen Lando in a while– he owed you a dance.
Brushing past him slowly, you inched towards the dance floor. You felt your dress riding up your thighs, but you made no move to pull it back down. You flashed a teasing smile over your shoulder as you disappeared into the crowd. Lando groaned and tilted his head to the ceiling. He subtly adjusted his trousers and followed your lead.
It was like the heat had been tripled in the mere moments you had entered the dance floor. You smiled at the pure adrenaline of being part of something so much bigger than yourself. This time, when hands grasped your waist, you didn’t flinch. You knew exactly who it was.
Lando pressed himself against your back, his hips flush with your ass. He not-so-gently moved your hair to one side, baring your neck to his restless mouth. His breath was hot against your already-sweaty skin. Yet, the feeling still brought goosebumps.
Your bodies moved together in a graceful grind, not necessarily following the music. He was just happy to be close to you. Lando leaned in.
“Little tease. With that dress and those heels,” Lando murmured close to your ear. You shivered.
Desperate to fan the flame, you tilted your head back to rest on his shoulder.
“Wait ‘till you see what’s under it,” you giggled. “A hint: it’s not much.”
You watched in real time as the words registered in his head. His eyes widened slightly and his grip flexed on your waist. You hoped there would be bruises shaped like his fingers there tomorrow.
You tested your luck by pressing sloppy kisses to the side of his neck, making sure to leave prints of your lipstick behind. Lando had told you once that it was one of his biggest turn-ons– seeing your marks on him. Your lips moved up the line of his jaw– you even went so far as to suck a light mark on the curve of it.
You more felt his groan than you heard it. It vibrated against your back and sent heat straight to your core.
“Testing me today…” Lando breathed against your ear.
As an act of revenge, the driver placed his jean-clad thigh in between your wobbling legs, the meat of it pressing against your cunt. You stuttered out a moan that was immediately lost to the sound of the club.
“Not so easy to tease now, is it love?” you could hear the smirk in his words.
You whimpered in response. He was right– it was getting harder to concentrate on your surroundings. That heady cloud of lust had begun to settle in your brain. He must’ve heard your pleas, because Lando turned you both around and directed you to a dark corner of the club. The music was just as loud here, though you didn’t have the inconvenience of other bodies shoving against yours. Now, it was just you and Lando.
The darkness cast a threatening shadow over Lando’s face as he pressed you against the wall. His thigh re-took its spot against your core, and you feared that your wetness would start to seep into the fabric of his pants. He leaned in close, close enough for you to smell his expensive cologne that sent a shiver down your spine. He looked at you with hunger in his gaze, his eyes tracing every curve and dip of your face.
Impatient, you rose up on your toes to press your mouth to his. Acting on instinct alone, you reached your hands into his mess of curls, like you had earlier wished to do. You moaned as he pressed his leg upwards, and Lando took the opening to meld your tongue with his. The feeling of his breath mixing with yours was a comfort, even as his roaming hands landed on your ass. He gripped it with a purpose, almost like he wasn’t in full control. He just needed to feel as much of you as possible.
He eventually had to pull away to breathe. You greedily sucked in air as he tucked his mouth into your neck once again. He bit his way down your throat column, all the way to your nape. You faintly nagged that there would be marks marring the skin of your neck all of tomorrow, but you wouldn’t do jack shit to cover them. Just as he liked your marks on him, you liked his marks on you.
You sumized that he would’ve fucked you against the wall of the club if you let him. It would be a desperate quickie fueled by alcohol and adrenaline. He would’ve gone through with it… if it wasn’t for your embarrassed squeal when you suddenly locked eyes with Oscar from across the room. The other McLaren driver stared open-mouthed at you both, as if he was trying to rationalize why his teammate was mauling your neck in a public setting.
You roughly tugged on Lando’s hair to get him to look up at you. He let out a deep groan and met your eyes. His lips were puffy and shiny with spit, and the sight made you clench around nothing. You shook your head to focus.
“I’ve just seen Oscar watching us. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to look him in the eyes again!” you whisper-yelled at Lando, who’s eyes were still partly glazed over.
“Let ‘em watch, love. I’m sure he gets off to it,” Lando sighed as he moved to latch back onto your clavicle.
You smacked the back of his head in retaliation. The driver cursed and rubbed the spot you had hit.
“I’m not letting you fuck me in this grimy club, Lando Norris. You’ll take me home and fuck me proper if you want any tonight,” you words came out whinier than you meant them to.
Lando smirked. He abruptly peeled himself from you, and you stumbled slightly at the change in position.
“Whatever the lady wants…” he said.
And then he was leading you through the club, making a b-line for the exit. You passed Oscar by the bar, and you shot him an apologetic look (as best you could). You would definitely have to talk to him about keeping this little incident to himself.
Thinking further, you thought about all the reporters potentially scouring the place for any driver drama. Even the notion of the media getting their hands on any pictures of you and Lando in such a compromising position made you shudder. That definitely wouldn’t go away easily.
A blast of fresh air entered your lungs as you and Lando exited the club. Monaco’s breeze wasn’t cool by any means, but it was still an improvement from the stuffy interior you had just spent the last four hours in.
You felt your head clearing just the slightest as Lando led you to his car. He stopped at the passenger door, already opening it for you. Though still craving his taste, you pulled your boyfriend into a needy kiss. It was a long drive back home (probably only ten minutes), and you couldn’t wait another moment without your mouth on his. He seemed just as happy to open up into the kiss, small moans mixing between the both of you.
You pulled away, “If any paparazzi gets ahold of photos from tonight, I’m going to make you sleep on the couch for at least a week.”
He gulped. You wouldn’t really make him sleep on the couch, but it was fun to threaten him where you could.
Lando cleared his throat. He opened the door to his car and helped you in. Being eye-level with his crotch, you could see the uncomfortable-looking bulge he was sporting. All because of you. You smiled to yourself.
“Let’s go, Norris. I can’t wait forever,” you lilt. He sprinted round the car to the driver’s side.
You’d never seen him drive so fast. And that was saying something, considering he drove race cars for a living.