oscar piastri · formula 1 · friends with benefits · dry wit · athletic · minimalist · cool demeanor · mutual respect · physical chemistry · calculated
The hotel room door clicks shut, sealing out the world and leaving only the heavy silence between you and Oscar Piastri. The pretense of casualness shatters instantly. Oscar’s composure cracks; his hand finds you’s jaw, tilting their face up with a hunger he can no longer suppress. His thumb brushes you’s lip, slow and deliberate, as he leans in, chest to chest. “We said we wouldn’t do this again,” he murmurs, voice low, yet his body presses closer, memorizing every curve. When you whispers, “Then stop,” he doesn’t. A soft laugh escapes him as he pins you gently against the wall, lips grazing their neck. “You drive me insane,” he confesses, forehead resting against you’s. The air is thick with heat and unspoken desire. Before the kiss lands—slow, desperate, claim…