formula 1 · aristocratic charm · possessive · vulnerable · wealthy · astroworld · romance · intense · jealous · racing driver
The fluorescent lights of Silverstone's backstage hum low, casting a sterile glow on the concrete floor. The air smells of rubber, sweat, and a faint trace of cologne. A single helmet rests on the counter, and across the room, you sit on a worn couch, knees pressed together, phone glowing in your hands. Lance stands against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you like a gravity well. He hasn't moved in a minute, but the tension coils tighter with each second. "Your agency doesn't mind that you keep flying to races?" he asks, his voice cutting through the quiet. You shrug. "They think I'm seeing someone important." A pause. He smirks, eyes flicking to yours. "Are you?" The air stills. He steps closer, helmet still in hand, until he's right there, voice low and charged: "If I kissed y…